#current bruise count: 5 or six at least

[newdayslinguine]

My body is a temple and that temple is in a war zone apparently

[passerine-writes]

Silent Sparks - Volt 6

Warnings: More mentions of child neglect and muzzling :( Word count: 2532

Notes: Italics - Tsukare signing (this chapter it's Mic signing in the beginning) Bold italics - Family member/friend signing 'Italics with apostrophes' - Thoughts

Masterlist

Volt 5 | Volt 7

After six months, Tsukare deemed Yamada 'Pops' and Aizawa 'Dad'. They were both huge milestones for the parents. The second one was seeing him off for his first day of his fifth year of elementary school. If Yamada cried then he wouldn't admit it, he was proud. He was so proud and happy with his small family.

The next step they finally took at their sons pace, was therapy. Once a week after school, he's scheduled for psychiatry with Recovery Girl. Even though she isn't the guidance counselor, Tsukare voiced that Hound Dog's sheer size initially startled him. Plus, he bonded with the tiny, sweet, old nurse and nobody wanted to take that away.

Shortly after, he started training his quirk with his dad's, finally feeling a little more comfortable to try and do so. They watched as he grew and excelled, starting to thrive in his home.

Then they met Shinsou Hitoshi. A small, purple haired kid with matching eyes who looked exhausted. Yamada was the one to find a child during patrol this time, noting how the child resembled his husband to a large degree, and now realizing a common theme. His booming heart stuttered and fell quiet when he noticed peculiar bruising on his face, much like he got as a child.

"Hey little listener, you okay?" Shinsou ducked his head down and kept walking, quicker this time, so Mic decided to take a shot in the dark as he ran in front of him.

Do you know sign?

The boys eyes widened in shock, not expecting a pro hero of all people to be able to sign. He simply nodded, still processing this fact.

Are you okay? You're a little bruised up, can I take you home?

With a pregnant pause, Yamada knew what the answer was going to be.

You don't have anywhere to go, do you?

The boy shook his head and went to side step, but the hero was faster.

What's your name?

My name is Shinsou Hitoshi.

Where are you staying right now?

Doesn't matter.

Did you runaway?

No, and it doesn't matter.

Why do you say that?

Because nobody wants a kid with a villains quirk, so can I go now?

Can you show me where you're staying so I know you're safe?

Will you leave me be if I do?

Maybe.

Fine, let's go then.

Taking it as a victory, Mic happily followed Shinsou a few blocks down.

Happy?

Mic was not happy. It was still getting cold out, the morning frosts still sticking and the cold nights barely starting to fade. And here this boy was, sleeping in a box with about five blankets in an alleyways back corner.

What happened to your family?

They threw me out, okay? Nobody wants a kid with a villain quirk. They weren't even my real parents. They were my sixth set of foster parents.

This kid was starting to remind him a lot of his husband now.

I'm a foster parent, my husband and I are, we're getting ready to legally adopt our current foster son. Would you at least like to stay the night? It's supposed to get really cold. Plus we have cats.

Fine. But only because you have cats.

Yep, definitely a carbon copy of his husband. Yet Tsukare was bordering on a carbon copy of himself so he couldn't say much.

Okay. I'm going to run home, talk to my husband and our son and make sure they're comfortable. Then I'll be back but I don't think they'll have any issues. Just hang tight.

With a singular nod, Hizashi speed walked back to his home and called his husband in the process.

"'Zashi is everything okay? You never call me on patrol."

"Sho, do you remember what you asked me six and a half months ago when you called me randomly on a night patrol?" His husband already knew where this was going, that was the last time he ever called his husband on patrol.

"Of course I do."

"I'm asking you the same thing right now, would you be okay if I brought a kid home? He's a tiny you Shouta!" Aizawa glanced over his shoulder to look at his son doing his homework in the kitchen. "Shouta, I have the same feeling in my gut that we did with Onryo. He feels like he should be our kid, too." The dark haired man let out a breath through his nose, more concerned with how their son might handle this adjustment. He finally started letting himself talk more freely and has finally started raising his hand in class.

"We have to go over it with Onryo first."

"I know! That's why I'm swinging home now and potentially going back to get him! I'm about to walk through the door!" Maybe he was jogging more then he was walking.

"Hi Pops!" The blond smiled and ruffled his sons wild hair, until his look turned confused. "You're home early from patrol, are you okay?"

"I'm okay, little listener. We actually wanted to talk to you about something real quick." Onryo hesitantly nodded, trying to think of what he possibly could have done wrong to warrant a serious conversation but he couldn't think of anything. His room was clean like normal, he has good grades and is actively doing his homework. "You didn't do anything wrong, just wanted to run something by you. Alright?" The child looked more relaxed and followed his dad's over to the couch. "I met a kid on patrol today, and when I met him I got that same feeling in my gut that Sho and I have about you, like he should be apart of our family. I was hoping he could stay the night, if that's alright with you." He nodded and got a sad look in his eye but did his best to mask it. "What's going through your brain, kiddo?"

"Am I.. going back?" The two looked concerned at how wrongly he interpreted that.

"No, not at all. Onryo, your Pops and I love you, you're our son. We aren't replacing or getting rid of you. Not now and not ever." A weight had been taken off of the almost nine year olds shoulders, the small bit of reassurance doing wonders.

"Then, I'm okay with having a brother. It just might take some time to get used to." They were both immensely proud of their son, knowing how much he despised change yet he was open for this one.

"Okay, I love you both, I have to go grab the kid! I'll be back! Shouta make sure we have ice cream!" The last sentence struck a chord of concern in the two left home, watching as the loud blond ran off.

"Do you think.."

"I hope not. But we'll see when they get here." However, they both silently knew why Mic would request ice cream for the kid.

"Alright! I'm back! You ready to rock 'n' roll?" The purple haired boy looked at the pro hero in shock. He actually came back. Shinsou started packing his things, surprising Mic with his many hidden places in the alleyway. "Alright, let's head out. Ice cream's waiting for you, it helps with your tongue after they put it on you." Shinsou's head shot towards the blond, shocked that he knew what the bruises were from but had also experienced it.

It was a silent walk, which Shinsou was more then happy with. When they walked in, Shinsou awkwardly stood to the side instead of stepping forward further.

"Alright, this is Shinsou Hitoshi, he's staying the night with us. Shinsou, this is our son, Tsukare Onryo. And this is my husband, Aizawa Shouta. And we all know sign language here so you can talk however you feel comfortable." The sleep deprived kid stood in shock again, not expecting to see one of his all time favorite pro heroes sitting in the kitchen.

You're Eraserhead.

"You actually know who I am?" Shinsou nodded quickly, still taking in everything. He took note of a boy, a smidge shorter than himself, sitting next to his dad, his leg bouncing rapidly as his fingers fiddled with a fidget. "That's a first." A small, anxiously waved hand caught his attention.

I think Pops already told you, but we have ice cream. It actually helps a lot more then you'd think. Tsukare signed hesitantly.

His thin eyebrows furrowed, confused as to how a second person in the house and a kid at that, also understood. Slowly, he sat on the stool, setting his bags at his feet protectively.

"Okay, so we wanted to go over something with you Shinsou. We only really have one rule of the house and that's honesty. Just be honest with us, and if you don't want to talk about something then tell us that and we'll save it for a later time. Onryo only has one rule for his room." The purple haired boy turned to topaz haired kid curiously.

I have some special things on my nightstand, please don't touch them. They're really important to me and I don't even let Dad and Pops touch them.

Odd request for Shinsou to hear but he shrugged it off and nodded. Yet he couldn't help that confused feeling. All of his other houses had so many rules and chores and punishments.

Anything else I should know?

"We're thinking about fostering you as well, however it's also a decision for you to make. If you don't want to stay here, then we won't force a foster home for you, all we want is for you to be safe as well. In the chance we do foster you, then the rules go up by one. Just keep your room clean, we already told Onryo but as you two get older then more responsibilities come, like doing your own laundry or loading the dishwasher." Shinsou sent Aizawa a crazed look, perplexed that those were the only rules. "Do you have any questions for us?"

And so the standard questions and curiosities ensued, most of them the same or similar to Tsukare's on his first night, except the eight year old wasn't expecting to get questions too.

So why don't you talk?

I don't want to accidentally use my quirk on you. Still working on controlling it. Why don't you talk?

Same reason I guess. I got a villains quirk so I try not to.

"If you don't mind me asking, what is your quirk?" Shinsou took his last bite of ice cream, spinning the spoon in his mouth to bide time from his role models question.

Brainwashing. If someone answers me, I can control them.

"Shinsou, no quirk is naturally villainous. It depends on how a person uses it that makes it that way. Mine was and could still be interpreted that way with that logic, but I realized that in high school." Shinsou stared at him with wide eyes, not expecting that from his favorite hero. "It takes some time to digest and really understand, but I promise you that it's not a villainous quirk." All the purple haired boy could do was nod before turning back to the smaller kid.

So what's your quirk?

I call it sound wave, I can control how loud a person hears me if I look at them while I talk. It won't affect anyone I'm not looking at, so if I used it on you, it could burst your eardrums but to Dad and Pops, it would just sound like I'm talking normally.

Neat, so it's Mic's quirk but on a select scale.

Tsukare nodded, attacking his fidget cube more intently.

I have a question for all of you. You both made the ice cream comment, and said it helps with it. Did someone put those things on you two?

Mic looked at his son for permission, accepting the nod before speaking. He didn't want to say too much and make him uncomfortable.

"We both grew up in foster care, we actually grew up in the same center. They'd put the muzzles on us if we 'stepped out of line' with our quirks." Shinsou nodded slowly, reevaluating his outlook on life silently. Truly he was worried about the small kid next to him, his eyes bounced from every object and back, his hands and leg unrelenting and he looked nervous almost.

"Sunshine?" The blond hummed as he looked at his husband who nodded his head towards their son. His eyes widened as he realized he forgot to give their son his meds this morning since they were running late for school.

"Little listener?" He looked at his Pops with wide eyes, confused at the querying tone. "Did you visit Miss Hina today?" Tsukare became lost in thought, an answer enough for his dads. "Alright, better late then never. Get over here you little rascal." He ruffled his sons hair, pleased that he at least laughed before he got down.

Shinsou watched confused as Aizawa grabbed a glass of water and three pill bottles from the top cabinet. All different sizes and colors. His confusion growing more as he watched this kid down them all at once.

"If you want to ask him you can. There's no harm in asking questions." He looked at Mic with wide eyes before turning back towards Tsukare.

What were all those for?

Tsukare looked at his dad cautiously, not knowing if it was okay to tell people. He had never been asked that before, so it was new ground for him.

"You can tell who you want to, it's up to you." He nodded shakily, thinking things through in his head before signing.

Ones a magnesium supplement to help with anxiety, the other one is actually for anxiety and the other one is for ADHD.

How old are you?

I'm eight. How old are you?

Eight. I turn nine this summer.

I turn nine in October.

Did you learn how to sign because of your quirk?

Kind of. What about you?

Pretty much, yeah.

Do you like cats?

I love cats.

Who's your favorite hero?

Your dad.

Really?

Yeah. He's why I want to be an underground hero. He fights quirkless pretty much and doesn't get a lot of attention while fighting villains. Plus he has a mental quirk.

I want to be a hero because of Pops! We both have sound quirks and he was always my favorite. A lot of people like All Might but I don't care for him all too much.

All Might's weird. He's loud and in the spotlight too much for my taste.

Do you want to go meet the cats and see the house?

Sure.

The two got up quickly, the parents worries completely washed away for now. Aizawa couldn't stop the smirk on his face, he knew exactly what his husband meant now. The two of them just felt like they were made to be brothers and their children.

[ctto-becauseimunoriginal]

The Girl of His Dreams 01

bully!eric x fem!reader (a bit of sunwoo)

mentions of: bully!sunwoo, juyeon, hyunjae

warning: smut, slight angst, nsfw, bullying

content: switch!reader, exhibition kink, mutual pining, lewd daydreaming, eric is tied up, profanities, lengthy character background, reader is a runaway, minor character death, drinking, smoking, bruises and blood, inconsistent spacings

word count: 114.k

┌───────── ·  ·  ·  · ♡

summary: y/n leads on the notorious bully Eric Sohn and threatens him as payback for always bullying her friend, read part 02 here

┌───────── ·  ·  ·  · ♡

“you’re all bark but no bite”

“worthless piece of trash can’t even stand boohoo”

obviously he couldn’t stand against the fight, let alone win, he wasn’t built like them and he wasn’t as strong as them. he won’t ever win against the soccer captain, baseball captain, and some other guys from the basketball club.

the teachers did not even do much for him, he reported the bullies countless of times but all they ever got was to sit in a lousy classroom, and call it a day, also known as “detention”

as much as he wants it to stop, he always stayed hopeful for it to magically stop one day just like how it magically happened all at once the first time around.

he always asks himself what got him into this situation and what was the reason but hearing them spit venom on him carrying the name of his sister and parents gave him more than enough idea as to why he was chosen to be their prey.

he had too many weaknesses

“i heard you have a sister why dont you bring her over some time? you’ll get less beatings that way, we promise”

“i hope your mother dies, she deserves it for giving birth to a bitch like you”

he wants to fight it and he badly wants it to stop but the longer it kept going on, the less pain the words stunned him, and here he is now, numb.

fighting would do him no good, it was the reality anyways. he cries to his mom every night, he longs for his parents everyday, but there’s not much he can do about it when they’re both buried six feet under. all he has left to lose is his sister and he swears on his life to not let anything happen to her. she is what’s keeping him together, she is what’s keeping them alive and the least he could do was face his problems on his own and not drag his innocent sister into this.

ever since she started coming home early from school, now switching work from her usual after-class into night shifts at a call center, the more she sees her brother come home beaten, limping, and locking himself in his room. even though she keeps on begging for him to tell her who did it, he refuses. she also can’t tell anyone else about it because he threatens to blackmail her if she gets caught mentioning the slightest bit about his state. not wanting to cross limits and boundaries, all she could ever do for him was look out for him and make sure he’s still alive and eating every day.

your best friend never really shone much light on it, the first time you saw his brother come home bruised black and blue on the cheeks you asked her about it but she shrugs it off and says she can’t say anything even though she really wants to.

The more you see him come home with scratches and sometimes subtly limping, you already knew the poor boy was having it rough at school.

it’s currently 5 am on a monday morning, your best friend was cold asleep on their couch as you were out in the balcony lazed in the cold air as fog from last night’s downpour starts fading out.

you were smoking a cigarette and mindlessly scrolling on your phone waiting for your best friend to wake up when you hear a click of a door shut break the silent air.

thinking it was your best friend rushing to the bathroom to throw up the remnants of last night’s drinks, you crushed the lit end of the now short cigarette onto the ash tray beside you and left it there then proceed to drag yourself into the warm living room and slide the balcony door shut.

taking a peek at the couch, your best friend was still sound asleep on the sofa. wondering where the click came from earlier you wandered around the apartment to see if her brother woke up, if not, a burglar.

making your way to the dimly lit kitchen you hear soft shuffling growing louder as you got nearer and peeking in you saw her brother already dressed in his uniform taking a bottle of juice from the fridge.

the strong scent of nicotine reached his senses before he could see your figure from his peripheral vision.

“it’s 5 in the morning you’re already going to school?”

you asked him leaning against the entryway to the kitchen thinking this would be a good time to confront him about his scratches, considering you were both finally alone and his sister is sound asleep.

“i have club practice”

he mutters standing still in between the fridge and the door of it that’s swung open not bothering to make eye contact with you.

“it does not take a genius to know what’s going on, you know”

you state in a matter of fact manner to him.

“did she tell you? besides, it doesn’t matter, it’s none of your business.”

this time muttering through a clenched jaw as he shut the fridge door to fully face you. you took this chance to closely examine his beat up face, a patch of purple was on his jaw, scratches littered onto the apple of his left cheek, another patch of purple onto the his other cheek, a bandaid over the bridge of his nose and a healed scar on the arc of his brow. he wasn’t taller than you making it easy for you to look at his facial features under the light.

“no your sister wouldn’t say anything to me, i took the luxury of pairing the puzzle pieces myself”

with a roll of his eyes he turns to make way towards you in an attempt to leave the conversation but you raised your foot up and placed it against the other side of the entryway denying him his exit.

“okay talk to me, you probably don’t talk about it to your sister but talk to me.”

silence.

“okay first off, im going to usher you to talk whether you like it or not. second, you’re not late to anything so i can hold you here for as long as i want. third, im not interested in what got you in this situation or why and you already know that i know why. fourth, im interested in who did this to you.” you say holding up four fingers in front of his face glaring at you as you counted off.

“and also, whether i will take action on this myself or not, you won’t be dragged into this anyway. i can always act like a douchebag and fight a stranger”

letting your words sink in, he gives in,

‘you’re not interested in the what why or how but in who’

“just… who did this to me right?”

he trails off as his free hand balled into a fist and to which you replied by nodding holding his gaze. if looks could kill, your facade right now would be long dead.

“and what will you even do if you knew who”

“i just told you, act like a douchebag to him or her or whatever they are and pick a fight, they dont know me anyway nor do they even know im related to you in any way”

interested in your idea, he crosses his arms in front of his chest as his weight now shifted onto the heel of one foot, you smirked back at the boy intrigued at your plot.

“Eric Sohn”

“mind giving me more details than that? you’ll have me end up fighting just about anyone i assume is called Eric Sohn”

“obnoxious purple and blue hair, that won’t be hard to find”

“hmm okay.. any specific places you know i might meet him?”

“some cracker place called creker, he goes there after baseball…. and our thing”

you didn’t miss the way his jaw subtly buckled at the mention of their so-called thing, nodding your head in understanding you relaxed your foot and brought it down to make way for him.

you silently watched his retreating figure as he takes a turn to the main door

“you’re still going to school this early?”

you asked him with concern laced in your voice.

“i’ll pick up breakfast along the way”

and that was the last thing he said before shutting the door and leaving.

the loud click of the door ringing through the apartment nudged your best friend to wake up a little bit, you hear shuffling from the living room and so you brought yourself to her figure who was now wiggling, stretching, and finishing it up by yawning which was cut short as a hand flew to her mouth in a blink of an eye as her other free hand practically ripped the blanket off of her laying figure.

you were quick witted, prepared, and most importantly, familiar with what’s happening. the bathroom door was already open, her route is clean of any trip-causing hazards, and the toilet cover was already up. you lowly laughed at your best friend’s unfortunate morning which you never got tired of, practically happening every week.

grabbing your friend’s hair you held it up for her as her gripped on the toilet tightened and her grunting echoed through the 4 walls as she empties all the drink into the poor toilet.

what a great monday morning for the both of you

2 hours, you’ve been in this dimly lit arcade for 2 whole hours just sitting in the “adult corner” of the cracker place which happened to be an arcade, sipping on your second glass of milkshake. however, you had to admit, their milkshake was pretty amazing.

your best friend’s brother texted you earlier that this so-called Eric often leaves the campus at around 7 at night. and so you came over to the location at 6, giving the benefit of the doubt his baseball practice might be cancelled for the day.

but now it’s 8pm, and all you had for “dinner” was two sweet sweet milkshakes.

feeling grumpy and impatient, you were about to stand up and leave opting to come back the next day when noisy chatters and cheers suddenly boomed through the place that was already noisy with game sounds as a group of rowdy teenage boys come bursting through the door.

scanning your eyes through the group, you caught a pink and blue pastel hair just like what you were told it looked like. your eyes fixated on the pastel head, he’s short, making it a little difficult for you to keep an eye on him when he’s constantly disappearing behind someones back or a shoulder.

finding the pastel head again when the group dispersed, he was leaning obnoxiously on the counter waiting for the worker to give him the change he needs to play whatever machine he wanted.

feeling a set of eyes devouring him the very moment he walked in his “home” Eric can’t help but look around the place to see who’s the culprit. and that is then he caught you scan him up and down painfully slow which to him meant you were checking him out.

he gave you a smug smirk as your eyes brought themselves back up to his very own staring right back at you. you shot him the best flirty wink you can smiling to yourself that your plan is starting to work, but to him that smile meant something else, perhaps you wanting to be under his sheets.

cutting the tension short, his attention was stolen by the coins pushed towards him on the counter and he tried his best to hold them all in his little fanny pack slung across his chest managing to drop some coins in the process.

a sight he didn’t expect to see greeted him when he was about to pick up the fallen coins. he took in the sight of your delicious breasts from above, the way the pendant of your necklace sat perfectly on top the valley of your breasts, and not missing the way your top hugged them all too deliciously. he would’ve pulled down his sweatpants and let you suck him clean while you’re on your knees right now but held back since you were both out in public.

“you like what you see baby?”

you muttered as you stood up to hand him the coins.

crossing your arms against your chest making sure to push your boobs up and make your cleavage more inviting. you didn’t miss the way his eyes devoured your figure and linger on your chest before coming back up to hold your gaze at him mirroring the same smirk plastered against his face, this time missing the way his bulge grew hard and prominent under his grey sweats.

“shouldn’t i ask you that? you were checking me out first princess”

now slowly coming up to you, you stood your ground, eyes flickering from his own to his lips and back to his eyes a couple of times.

stopping in his tracks as his nose brushed against your own, his smirk only grew smugger when you didn’t move an inch away from him.

“what? afraid to push me against the counter and trap me between your muscular veiny arms while we make out?”

you wet your plump lips making them more inviting than it already was as your fingers lightly traced a path down his arms falling to his pretty hands and guiding them to rest on your waist. looking back at him with lustful eyes, he took this as a sign to do what you challenged.

with a tightening grip on your waist he pushed you towards the counter, his growing hot breath fanning against your lips inching closer and closer together.

you pulled yourself away catching him by surprise but in a split second the shock in his eyes was replaced with a smug look.

“suddenly scared princess? don’t worry i won’t hurt you, not when you’re still dressed”

sinful words dripped from his lips as he teased you, but still putting up a fight you muttered in the most lustful and teasing way you can

“tsk i still had to tell you what to do… forget about making out and let me mark you up baby”

your doe eyes look up at him as your thumb played with his bottom lip while you slowly trailed soft kisses along his jaw and down to his neck, not missing to suck on the skin under his ear.

his grip on your waist tightened as you lick a sensitive area along the crook of his neck, aware of his reaction, you bit down softly and sucked on the area leaving a prominent purple mark for the morning.

your free hand move down his clothed hard toned body, mindful to do it at painfully slow pace, he lets out a low groan slightly throwing his head back when your hand found its way under his oversized shirt and onto his toned abs.

shushing him, you pushed your thumb on his lip into his mouth prompting him to suck on it, which he did.

your lips busy themselves by leaving marks on his neck and exposed collarbone, your hand on his abs left lingering touches on him as you took the luxury of feeling his hard abs, and with your thumb pushing down on his tongue while his plump lips wrap around the shaft of your digit he swore no one has ever made him feel this good being controlled before.

his grip on your waist tightens even more, definitely leaving a mark the next day but you grant him the freedom anyways.

letting go of your thumb with a pop as he pulled away, a trail of saliva connecting from his lips to your thumb made the view more sinful than it already is. he removes one of his hands on your waist and brings it up to your cheek, angling and slowly pulling your pink swollen lips onto his own but before your lips could crash you pulled away yet again.

you enjoyed the view of a frustrated eric in front of you, brows knit together and a frown evident on his lips as the hand that cupped your cheek now stays frozen in the air.

“not tonight baby”

you sent him a wink and a flirty smile as you carefully slipped yourself out from the heated space between his hard body and the counter, making sure to leave a lingering touch onto his painfully hard bulge as you purposely brush your thigh against his hard member as you slipped out.

speed walking out of the arcade without looking back, you quickened your paced out of there. finally out of the of the shop, you darted and ran away as fast as you can and made a sharp turn to a corner, making it hard for the pastel boy who walked out right after you to find you in the area.

waiting in the cold air for the past hour was not something your best friend’s brother expected on a tuesday morning. sure, Eric could be late sometimes but it’s never that he never showed up.

“buy me coffee everyday and i’ll tone down the beating after class. how does that sound?”

Eric squatted down to meet eye-to-eye with the helplessly panting black and blue bruised boy leaning against the wall laying on the ground clutching onto his stomach.

“deal.”

was all he could let out of his quivering and bloody lips as Eric stood up again, watching him turn around he thought he was finally going to leave but to his dismay he suddenly turned on his heel to send a hard kick to the boy’s ribs making him cry out in pain as air got kicked out of his lungs from the impact. falling to the floor, he helplessly curves into a ball clutching onto his ribs as tears started streaming down his face again.

thinking that was the last blow, he placed his guard down again but what he got was more painful kicks. one painful blow managed to get through his ball position and kicked him right where it pained the most. as expected from the soccer captain.

“you know what, bring breakfast and coffee for all of us instead”

and that was it before they all turned and left the boy helpless and on the ground once again.

ever since then, he always used up his money to buy them breakfast and coffee. they were cheap but he was thankful nonetheless that they didn’t point that out, yet.

students started filling in the campus as class starts in ten minutes. and there he saw them, walking together as other students’ heads turn to their direction. Sunwoo, the soccer captain, turned to his direction and lock eyes with him even with their far distance making him instinctively gulp a ball of saliva down his throat in fear. he was numb to the pain but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t fear them.

sunwoo made a gesture towards his way that he is dismissed, something he doesn’t see often from them but thankful whenever they do. he subtly gives him a bow which sunwoo also subtly returns to him with a short nod before walking into the building and same goes for the poor boy that's been waiting in the cold.

‘cold noodles for lunch i guess’

‘shit’ he mentally cursed at himself for getting way distracted of Sunwoo to forget about his goal of the day. Eric

he wanted to see if you kept your word and bumping into them in the hallway while on his way to class gave him the same golden opportunity as earlier if you had done what you promised.

after silently offering them their bags of breakfast, which they’d still eat in class anyways, they accepted it along with the cold coffee then comes the bickering

“our slave serves us so well we just might not look for another”

“don’t go broke on us or else we’ll have to replace you”

the duo from the basketball club speaks, Juyeon and Hyunjae. They never really did much in terms of beating him up but rather they take pleasure into hurting him verbally, the maximum effort that they’d do would be spitting on him.

remembering why he mustered up the last bits of courage in him to still approach them and give them their breakfast, his attention shifted to Eric. he didn’t look beat up

instead, he was sporting a fresh patch of hickeys down his neck.

‘was this all you were up to? sleep with him? to make my blood boil?’

he thought to himself as a familiar feeling of betrayal clutched onto his pained chest. you were probably out and telling his sister about Eric, he thinks

after the “incident” the other night, you packed up your pride and shame and still went to Creker. Your outfit got more revealing and teasing than last time.

you sported denim shorts that hugged your waist, hips, and ass too perfectly with a black halter-neck top. With its strings that held up your top tied to the back of your neck it exposed your collarbones, shoulder, and upper back showcasing several minimalistic tattoos you have. your soft skin out and about was enough to make any guy go crazy.

sipping onto your milkshake as you were on your phone, missing to notice eric and his rowdy group was already in the building.

from a couple of tables across you, Eric was practically eye-fucking you in front of Sunwoo. taking in the way your red lipstick would leave prints on the paper straw, mentally imagining you on your knees, red lips wrapped around his member taking him in so well as your mascara stained face looks up at him while he throat fucks you.

unconsciously licking his lips, he shamelessly allows his imagination to run wild out in public. the soft skin of your back, shoulders and collarbones littered with hickeys he’ll put himself. sucking and biting on the back of your shoulder as he fucks you from behind. hand around your pretty throat also littered with his love bites, fucking you senseless as he rubs circles onto your clit making you scream his name

begging for release as he brings you to your own body-shuddering orgasm then proceeding to fuck you through your high.

his cock grew painfully hard at the thought and it grew torturing as he takes in the way your skimpy shorts rides further up your thighs or the way you would push your ass out, arch your back and unconsciously push your chest out on your seat whenever you’re tired and placing your head onto your palms as your elbows were prompt up on the table, an evident groan shaping your lips.

from doing the bare minimum you were so hot. he swore he could see himself fucking you right there and then in your seat. him seated under you as you push your ass out and bounce onto his hard cock. hands behind your back as he holds them in place, tugging on them to make you go faster as he thrusts his hips upwards in rhythm with yours feeling him go deep into you in this position and new found rhythm.

his train of filthy thoughts was cut short when a bunch of napkins fall onto his face. shifting his attention back to Sunwoo who has holding a fork in hand and ready to throw it at the pervert in front of him. Eric raises an eyebrow at him, his thoughts were only getting better before it was interrupted.

“you were drooling”

sunwoo deadpans as he brought the fork down to stab it on the slice of strawberry cake in front of him. he was well-aware of what his friend was thinking of, it was obvious on the way his eyes would painfully scan you top to button several times and unconsciously licking and biting his lips in the process.

he doesn’t blame him for acting that way, if he was in his position yesterday, a hot girl coming up to him and giving him love bites, it would’ve escalated to something more.

in addition, your outfit for tonight was too inviting for wild fantasies than it should be. not that he was blaming what you were wearing, you just looked terribly hot, too hot for his liking of you wanting eric and not him.

only difference if Eric was him though, you two would’ve been in his car right now as he fucks you senseless, words of praise coming out of his mouth as he mutters them against your lip.

your red lipstick? long gone from marking and making out. he would make you mark him everywhere he wanted. red kiss marks up and down his neck, his chest, collarbone, heck even on his white dress shirt so everyone knows it was from you.

your shorts? probably thrown to the front seat as he makes out with your wet cunt, lapping at your juices, sucking and biting on your sensitive bud as his fingers curl into you making you see stars, your fingers lost in his own peach hair as he lets you grind on his face enjoying it as much as you are.

the star of the show, your top? it’s still on you as he admires the way your braless breasts bounce as he fucks himself into you. loving the way they bounce to the rhythm of him fucking you, the way you would hiss under your breath whenever his cold ring brushes against your hard nipple poking through the fabric—

this time it was sunwoo’s train of thoughts that was interrupted when a napkin comes in contact with his face.

“you were drooling”

Eric mocks the way Sunwoo interrupted him earlier which earned him an eye roll and a scoff from the latter.

“as i was saying, if i went up to her, do you reckon we will make out for real this time?”

Sunwoo raises a brow at the boy across him, not liking this new “im sure she will fuck me” energy he has.

“why are you even asking me? it’s not like i ever made out with you to know if girls come running back”

“i know but i need a support system here”

Sunwoo rolls his eyes again for the nth time tonight. he looks over to your table trying to look for these “signs” that you would make out with Eric. but to his surprise he was met with an empty table, eyes shifting towards the lines of machines in front of them, he finds you sat down and hastily spamming on buttons as you played Street Fighter against what he assumed to be your friends.

looking like you’re out of it and having fun playing, it doesn’t seem like he sees any glints of the teasing and flirty you from yesterday.

“seems like you are out of her head at the moment, doesn’t seem like she would make a move on you tonight”

Sunwoo states in a matter-of-fact way before shoving a bite of cake into his mouth.

“then i guess i should make a move myself”

and with that, Eric pushes himself up from his seat and makes his way to you, Sunwoo watches the way you caught a glimpse at his friend coming towards you before proceeding to run off avoiding him. he lets out a short entertained laugh as he watches this unfold before him. his own stuck-up-his-own-ass best friend gets ghosted by a girl that made moves on him.

finishing the game, surprisingly winning even though you had no idea what you were doing— you stood up and just in time you caught a glimpse of Eric from your peripheral vision as he makes his way towards you. remembering the plan, you turned to his way and gave him a flirty wink first before turning on your heel and making your way around the machines towards one of your other friends.

earlier, you were frustrated that it was taking so long for him to walk through the door and into your peripheral vision. groaning, you wanted to leave but as your head faced the other tables in front if you a familiar colored head caught your attention, Eric

he was seated with someone, that someone threw a napkin towards Eric’s face and then they held a conversation

you mentally cursed yourself for not realizing sooner that he was already here and how you could’ve been done for today way sooner.

ready to throw out another frustrated groan, it was cut short when familiar faces walked through the door, they were your co-workers at this diner you worked at during the day.

noticing you sitting by yourself, they make way to you giving teasing looks

“hm so you left work early to go to your date? hmmmm”

“is he really that good in bed that you’re early and he’s not”

you laughed at their straightforwardness, they definitely had no filter when they talked.

“i came over to cool off, they have great milkshakes”

you said gesturing towards your now empty glass

“gonna try some later, me thinks”

“but for now, let’s play, let’s go!”

“i’m not putting my pay on the line on bets”

“i second that”

and with that, they dragged you over to the machines totally forgetting the real reason you were here in the first place.

but now you were totally avoiding the person concerning that reason. not because you no longer had the shame from yesterday, you still had it. you just didn’t want to show it in front of the same people you work with.

and so here you are, bending over the counter waiting for the change of your paper bill, shorts riding up high against your thighs and tightening around your core. not gonna lie, the feeling got you a little horny.

feeling eyes on you again, like how it always have been for the entire night, you turned your head and shifted your direction to the table where Eric sat, catching him devour the sight of your ass.

biting back a laugh at Eric’s shocked expression looking back at you when you caught him checking you out.

you sent a wink to his way as a smug smirk grew on his lips. directing your attention back to your friend, you subtly swayed your hips side to side when you whined to your friend who asked you to buy you three milkshakes with your own money, missing the way eric subtly grabbed his bulge under the table to help ease himself.

“your ass is so-“

smack

“what do you call it… excited?”

your friend playfully smacks your ass at your whining not knowing this was driving the poor boy insane.

her hand stayed on your ass rubbing soothing circles on it, probably from habit or something. with a little smack again on your ass you straightened up as the worker slides you both the coins you need for the machines.

the night went on as you planned it to be, thankfully. being the coin bearer of the group, you roamed around the space bringing coins to whichever called for you making sure to pass by Eric whenever you can, not missing the way his eyes would stay glued to your chest or your ass whenever you walked by.

your friends also caught up to this and asked if you knew about the guy eyeing you out like a pervert but you shrugged it off telling them not to mind him.

on the other hand, you were driving Eric insane. he wanted to go up to you and just make out, let you know he knows what’s this game you’re playing. but constant restrictions from Sunwoo stopped him for doing so, saying quote end quote “do it when she’s alone, she probably doesn’t like you around her friends”

everywhere you went, every game you would stop to play, his eyes never left you but only to talk to Sunwoo or give him glares. Eric is over the edge by now, as your shorts would ride up your thigh whenever you sit, the way your ass looks delicious when you pick a coin up, the way your breasts subtly bounce whenever you walk, the way your smooth skin looks so tasty right now under the dim lighting and countless neon lights.

he can’t count how many surfaces in this damn shop he ever imagined fucking you all in one sitting as you ran laps around his mind. hands on either side of you as he pulls you back to him, thighs quivering and close to losing strength as he's fucking you from behind while he distracts you while you're playing. you on your knees, slotted in between his parted thighs, red lips sucking him off while he sits to play. his bruising grip on your hips as your one leg is swung over the counter as he fucks you from behind angling in the perfect spot as he slams into you with no control. sweat glistening bodies looking so perfect reflecting the neon lights, your constant moaning of his name above the video game sounds as you would beg for release like the good girl you are. and the new addition, bending you over on the counter to eat your wet cunt while he fingers your tight ass and slapping your delicious ass making your body shudder as you orgasm on his tongue.

he wanted you, all of you

unbeknownst to him and you, the peach haired boy across Eric also had the same thoughts for the same reasons.

‘you always want what you can’t have’ sunwoo thinks to himself when bitter reality hits.

nevertheless, whatever you had going on, this went on for the rest of the week, your clothes getting more risky and inviting every day. even as much as going braless one time and wearing only a bralette under a huge blazer the other day. you knew you were driving him insane, and you loved every single bit of it.

eric now goes to Creker everyday, sometimes even earlier than you expect. he knew you were playing games with him but he still loved every single bit of it.

for every outfit you wear and every move you make you’re making it easier for him to think of ways he could fuck you once he gets his hands on you. Already giving the imaginary-you petnames, his favorite being “slut”.

“you love that don’t you? making me cum on your pretty little fucking face. you’re such a cumslut for me”

“a slutty whore who likes to dress up in public needs to be put in her place, now be a good girl and bend over for me”

“you like it when i fuck you like this? making you see stars and orgasm ‘til you can’t anymore? you like that don’t you slut?”

“you’re so wet princess, so wet and only for me. you like it when i play with your fucking cunt like this? of course a slut like you would like it. heck you would squirt just from it because you’re a slut like that”

everyday it went the same, you were avoiding him but still putting on a show. whether he had a lot of friends with him or not it didn’t matter, you were putting on a free show just maybe not only to him.

last friday was nothing different until he couldn’t handle it anymore, this saturday was going to be his shot in getting laid with the girl of his dreams. literally, his nights have been constantly filled with thoughts if you and wet dreams are still about you as if the daydreams weren’t enough.

that night, although drunk and dazed over the thoughts of you, he plucked up the courage to run after you when you walked out. roughly grabbing your wrist, he whips you around with so much force you almost lost your balance, almost.

“sorry”

was all he could mutter as he rubs a hand over the back of his neck. you crossed your arms against your chest, a move he never got tired of no matter how many times you did it, your eyebrows furrowed at the boy in front of you at the sudden rudeness of pulling you.

“do you need anything?”

the cold tone of your voice caught him off guard, after all the teasing and out of the blue you are acting up caught him by surprise. but then he realized he really just did whip you around almost ripping off your arm.

“there’s a party at my place tomorrow night, care to come over?”

he muttered finally looking up to meet you eye-to-eye, his eyes no longer had the lust that it always had whenever you were around, surprisingly it was a genuine emotion of expectation and anticipation.

poking the tip of your tongue to the inner wall of your cheek, you placed a finger to your lip pondering on your decision. a party was never part of the plot.

“address”

you didn’t miss the way you caught him staring at your lips before you answered.

“uhm… Kakao M University, just ask for the TBZ frat house”

you can’t help but notice the way his strong facade was slowly breaking down into pieces, you were probably scaring him right now, good.

“dress code?”

your unexpected question caught him off guard, again. he was looking at you questioningly and you only returned a raised brow at him instead of repeating yourself. as soon as the words sunk in and he finally understood, his mouth formed an ‘o’ shape as his eyes also lit up

“just wear anything”

the facade was building itself up again at the thought of your previous outfits at the arcade, wondering how you’ll surprise him again. a smirk slowly growing itself, he sent you a wink.

feeling playful, you sent him a flirty smile back, you already have the perfect plan in mind

“i’ll be there”

you sent him a wink this time before turning on your heel as you jogged back to catch up with your friends now waiting by a stoplight, missing the way a wide grin grew on his face, he just asked out the girl of his dreams.

Sunwoo’s jaw practically hung open from the other side where he was watching it all unfold from the arcade’s window. he saw his best friend’s facade falter, no longer seeing the predator gaze he always had in his eyes ever since you started coming to the arcade, this time he saw nothing but just Sohn Youngjae, no longer Eric, the hormonal douchebag.

‘damn what did you do to the kid’

it was still the same friday night, let’s just say you had a lot on your plate. after your usual show at the arcade, Eric’s invitation, and your friends’ constant pestering on what they assumed was your “date”, you find yourself at your best friend’s place.

just earlier after you walked your two friends to their shared apartment and you were on your way to your own, your best friend had called you up for an invitation of her own

Y/N!!

damn im right here no need to shout

Y/N!!

what what what what

Y/N~~ i missed you~~

pfft you’re already drinking without me?

no but i do need you to stop by please

hmm okay but can i get a reason though?

i want to drink with someone

okay okay I’ll be on my way with bottles

hihi i love you~

goodbye im dropping the call

and just like that you were on your way to her place, bottles and a pack of cigarette in hand. you were practically like a big sister to her and her brother, losing their parents was a hard thing to move on from but they had to, and they had to do that quick. meanwhile you, you willingly left home so you could live on your own and start anew.

You knew the risks and consequences it would come with but you went for it anyways. You spent months looking for the perfect place to run off to. And that’s when you stumbled upon this beautiful place called Spring Snow Valley, it had all the perfect places you wanted, it was cold, colorful, and calming. All the pictures you’ve seen online were giving such a comforting vibe to you, it felt like home. And that’s when you decided you’ll go here, your parents never took you to that many places before, especially this one. This foreign place that you fell in love with at the mere pictures you’ve seen of the place.

the moment you hit 20, you decided it was time for you to leave for real this time, time for you to runaway. time for you to cut off from everything that weighed you down and find your own sense of comfort. So you packed your bags, a backpack and a handbag which held not that many clothes but enough to get by and a bunch of other necessities. With the plane ticket and your passport in hand, you could still remember yourself trembling at the counter realizing you’re actually doing it.

stepping foot into your dream land, pictures didn’t do it any justice. It felt like how you know it would, comforting. Settling down in this cheap and small studio you booked beforehand, you started slow in adjusting and your job was your priority in settling first. You were fortunate enough there was a diner that offered online recruitment for waitresses and you were lucky enough to be selected. The very next day you headed to work right away, not the best way to enjoy a new place but then again, you have the rest of your life from now on to explore its endless beauty. And at present, you’re deep in love in the place you live in, your very own home, your very own comfort place working a stable job at a diner providing for yourself. You were happy, finally.

in a similar way and around the same age, your best friend also underwent her struggles being also a runaway herself. They were a happy family of 4, her parents worked hard and had stable jobs that were enough to provide for their 2 kids, they always had support in everything they did, they were loved immensely, cared for, they had the perfect parents. everything was perfect, too perfect. without warning, all was taken away from them in the blink of an eye.

one tragic pouring night, the kids received a call saying their parents had passed away. it was all too much all at once, they didn’t want to believe it until they had to watch their caskets get brought down. on the very night they received the call, an hour before the call was made, their parents got themselves in a car accident. the road was wet and slippery, other cars’ headlights were on high. in the blink of an eye, the container trucking van in front of them suddenly took a sharp turn in an attempt to avoid ramming into the cars that collided in front of him and killing any survivors if there were any. due to heavy rain making it hard for the dad to see, he wondered where all the bright headlights went and before he could turn the car around with what’s happening in front of him, the container that the truck was connected to started tilting towards them and before any nearby cars could make way for them to back up and several others to avoid the fall, the container came crashing down on 2 cars, all of which had no survivors.

They were never told the story of how their parents died, the best they got was a “it was a car accident on the road”, and they were smart kids, they always pestered the adults about their suspicions

“you said it was a car accident! if it was they shouldn’t be dead!”

“darling i know it’s hard to accept but not everyone who gets into a car accident survives”

“but… they should be alive”

“im sorry darling”

not wanting their ending to be just a “car accident”, your best friend in younger form resorts to the internet, she spent nights looking for articles that were written about that day. until she stumbled on the perfect one, it had a picture of their car’s crushed state with the plate number only slightly dented. reading further, the article ended with the name of those who passed, two of which were their parents.

from then on she has always kept it to herself, that she knew how they died, why they didn’t even get to have a last look at them. that is until she decided it was time for her brother to also know. all these years he’s always blamed it on himself that they died, for all the times he would refuse to spend time on them because he was too sucked up in a game, for all the times he’s been a burden at them and letting his anger talk for him. but his sister knew, she knew he was struggling on his own just like she was, but before he drowns himself in his thoughts, she lets the truth out hoping it would stop her brother from constantly thinking about ending it all. they’re both struggling in their own ways and their own reasons but the love they have for the parents always held them together.

which takes them to the night they packed their bags and left their grandparents. they never treated them right, only seeing them as an asset to their fortune, aside from their view of them being children of an “affair.” having enough of the constant stress and pressure that they put them into, they left the house for some place better. a place they would like to call a second shot to home. with her being a legal adult and him not even of legal age yet, she dragged him along wherever she went.

which takes them to this serene place. It was calm, peaceful, and comforting, a place they both really needed all this time. just like her fated best friend to be, she also found the place off of the internet. she already has everything settled from the apartment they will stay in, her job, and to his studies. she successfully got him a scholarship to a nearby school where he now goes to, it’s not the best, heck it’s always hell where he gets beat up like no tomorrow, but as much as he wants to drop out he fights the urge and insists himself to finish the year first. all for his sister. finishing school meant he would be able to land a job somewhere needing his credentials, it meant he can work now and lighten the pressure on his sister.

weeks down the road, they would meet this sweet waitress in the new diner they decided to try out. little did they know, that same waitress was going to be their guiding angel. what you did for a living at that time wasn’t really “angel-like” but out of the mature industry you were in that had you stripping for dollars on the side, you were the sweetest, your calm and comforting presence reminded them of their mother. you were a friend they call often out of work to hear out their problems, get together and drink, you also handled their financial settlements like bills and such to untangle their messy perception of which to pay first and what to prioritize least. you taught them a lot, a lot about life and a lot about growing. you grew into each other and before you know it, you’re the third sister in the family you three called your own. and one alcohol-drenched night prompted you three to get matching tattoos, to be reminded that it won’t ever be complete if it wasn’t three. you had the roman numerical value of 1 being the eldest, your best friend having 2, and her brother having 3. it was your connection to each other

the walk to your best friend’s apartment was and always will be painfully long but it was calming either way— and you also always have time to drown in your daydreams, so you didn’t mind. the street’s aura shifts into different settings and vibes every time you pass by the route, it made the experience feel even more magical. it would start with a dimly lit street where warm street lights littered the pathways, then next thing you know you would be walking beside the river as lamp posts replaced street lights, then it would switch again to you walking under trees that blossom seasonly as short little pathway lights replace the lamp posts, and your last stop, the busy street where neon lights and various store lights littered the area.

making a sharp turn around the block, you climbed the stairs to your best friend’s apartment now taking notice of the bottles noisily clanking against each other for every movement you made, knocking on her door as you stood there waiting, she's in her pajamas as she greets you all giddy and excited as she swung the door open.

“IT’S FINALLY TIME!”

she cheerily shouts for the whole building’s residents to hear as you made your way into her warm place drastically different from the cold breeze that hugged you for who knows how long outside.

and so the familiar night unfolds, it was the same as every other weekend, your best friend wanting to drink as a way to celebrate for quote end quote “getting through another week” and dragging her younger brother along into drinking, who was he to refuse what he needs the most.

too focused on downing your drinks you missed how her younger brother suddenly looked… cleaner.

“y/n can i talk to you in the kitchen please”

that was the reason you were here again, same position as the last time you both met, him by the fridge and you on the doorway as you left your best friend to pass out on the couch.

“what did you do?”

in your dazed state you raised your eyebrows at the sudden straightforwardness of the younger

“excuse me what, what did i do? i think i missed a chapter here”

“what did you do? no— what are you doing? you said you’d fight him, remember?”

trying to muster up as much of a sober state as you can, you tried to hold a proper conversation. thinking too hard on how to word it out correctly, you bit your lip to stop yourself from letting poorly worded statements drip out.

“just tell me what’s going on… the first time i saw him after monday he had marks up his fucking neck, was that you?”

silence. you cant bring yourself to tell him

“y/n…”

“okay yes it was me—“

“you’re unbelievable”

“hear me out first before you blow me off”

you raised your foot against the other side of the doorway you’re leaning on, now this definitely looks like the first confrontation.

the silence in the air gave you a green light to speak up

“im trailing him on so he thinks im into him but i’ll really beat him up for you…. soon”

the little details in your statement gave a lot of room of suspicion for him, so you gave in, you told him everything that happened and what’s happening. you even told him about the party the next day

“are you sure about this?”

“yes”

“y/n, it’s a frat house you’re going to get ganged up”

“i won’t, i’ll get him alone somehow”

silence

“and don’t worry, he doesn’t know about this”

you held your wrist out where the tattoo sat, pulling down on the arm band that’s been keeping it hidden this whole time.

“by the way uhm… i wanted to thank you”

“for..? picking up a fight? it hasn’t even happened yet”

he shook his head as he looks at your pink state, evident that the alcohol is slowly settling in.

“for doing this…”

“...admittedly, the past days i’ve had it easy, he would always leave the campus early and the rest of the guys hasn’t been that tough on me… ”

“...and now that i know why he’s been leaving, i wanted to say thank you, you kind of saved my cheeks from bruising this week”

you only nodded along to his words, eyes closed and a knit smile on your face, he laughed at your state not knowing if it’s because the alcohol fully took you in or if it’s because you actually listened and looked like a proud mom from it.

care to explain how you got into this position? no im tired go away

you were on eric’s bed sloppily making out as his hand traveled up your skimpy dress, stopping onto your breast to grab harshly at it causing you to part your lips in surprise, he took this chance to dart his tongue into you and explore you. tongue fighting for dominance, you didn’t want him to top you despite his growing pressure on your body.

successfully gaining the top hand, you push his tongue out of your lips with your own, pulling away a trail of saliva connected you two together, taking in your fucked out state with hooded eyes before diving down onto your neck as your hands gripped his shoulders.

“stop acting like you don’t want this baby you got me riled up like this the whole week...”

“...you— are— the— reason— for— this”

he muttered the last statement word for word as he thrusts his clothe hard bulge against your covered core making you squirm from the friction.

tugging on the flimsy straps of your dress you let him slide them off your arms before pulling the top part down exposing your hard nipples to him.

your soft moans mixed with the muffled music from outside filled his dimly lit room. your fingers entangled themselves into his locks as he gave your nipple kitty licks before latching onto it, sucking and biting occasionally on the sensitive nub. his other hand giving the same attention to the other one, giving it rough massages and occasionally pinching and pulling on your sensitive nub. to add fuel to the overwhelming pleasure, he was still thrusting his bulge into your aching core loving the friction he was getting from it.

“who made you this feisty?”

you muttered in between moans as your eyes roll to the back of your at the overwhelming pleasure, it earned you a low chuckle as he bit and pulled on your sensitive nipples making you cry out his beautiful name.

“you did princess, this is all your doing”

letting go of your nipple, he prompted himself on his arms beside your head, your legs wrapping around his hips pulling him impossibly close as he sped up his thrust unto your covered core. wanting to grab on anything for support you went to grab at his back, scratching him in the process as you arched your back at the stimulation. too focus on your high you missed the way he took in the way your brows would furrow as your eyes flutter shut when he grazes your sensitive clit, or the way your lips would part only to be sucked back in as you bite on it to suppress a moan. god he loved you looking like this, so fucked out, and he’s not even in you yet.

not wanting to release just from the foreplay, you weakened your grip around his hips.

“Eric…”

“baby just a little more”

“Eric… i want to cum on your hard cock please”

thrusts slowing down and his body coming down on you, in an attempt to hide his proud smile as you begged for his cock he buries himself into your neck again, biting down and muttering against the skin

“anything for my good girl”

you took this chance to muster up all the strength you had left to turn your two bodies, now you were on top of him sitting on top of his hard bulge as his hands roamed from your thighs to your hips, the bundled dress on your waist, breasts, anywhere he can hold.

grinding on his bulge at a painfully slow pace, he ushers you to do it faster and with more force as he adds pressure to his hands gripping on your hips guiding you.

instead, you leaned over, hands trailing lingering touches up his hard abs and toned chest, you came face to face with him muttering against his pretty swollen lips

“baby let me take control for tonight”

“go for it, make daddy proud”

pulling away he tucked an arm under his head, enjoying his wet dream worthy view of you. you climbed off of him and situated yourself between his his two legs. never breaking the lustful gaze between you two, you bent down to grab his hard bulge and give it a soft massage as you placed soft kisses on the jean-clad boner, his free hand tangled itself in your hair and you squeezed his hard cock harshly as you pulled away from his touch in response as you now sitting on your heels.

“i thought we agreed i’d be in control”

“sorry baby i couldn’t help it you just looked so pretty against my cock”

with a roll of your eyes and a low chuckle from him your hands went to work with his belt and sliding it off the hooks.

the black leather still in your hand, you bent down to trail wet kisses up his abs and chest until you’re met with him face to face. throwing your thighs around his hips, you were straddling him again as he just kept his lust-filled gaze on you the whole time.

smirking down at him you took a grab of his free hand and put it up above his head on the mattress as the hand under his head soon followed. distracting him, you made out with him and slid your tongue in going as deep as you can while your hips worked wonders against his bulge. your pace going faster and rougher he lets out a soft moan of your name against your lips as he feels the familiar feeling of his high build up again.

denying him of his release again, you pulled away from him and sat onto his bulge still grinding painfully slow on it. smirking to yourself you admired your work, eric sohn being tied up and bound, neck littered with your blue marks, chest filled with red fresh scratch marks, abs littered with more marks of your own. god he looked so good under you like this.

eric could only lowly laugh at his state, completely controlled by the girl who’s been the definition of sin to him the past days. he could’ve sworn he saw a hint of mischief in your eyes as you eyed him deliciously before straightening up on his hips fumbling with the bundled clothing around your waist, you fished out the belt you’ve been wearing around you.

leaning over to tower over him again you gave him a smirk as you hovered over, taking his bound wrists and tying them with your belt to his headboard, fully restricting his hands from anywhere.

eric couldn’t care less about it as he just wanted you tonight. with your breasts hanging right over his lips, he took the luxury of giving it kitten licks before taking in a nipple in between his lips. sucking, biting and pulling, the sensitivity of your bud made you grip onto his headboard with your head thrown back letting out profanities as his eyes never left your face taking in how hot you are whenever he pushes the right buttons on you.

regaining your composure, you pulled yourself away from his touch, letting go of your breast with a pop, he then proceed to show off a smug smile at you as you rolled his eyes at him

bringing yourself back down, you went back to grinding onto his hard bulge. starting painfully slow making him thrust himself up at you which only earned him a scowl from you. growing hotter by the minute you pulled your dress to the top so now you’re only in your panties grinding on his painfully hard bulge, the site driving him to go crazy and fully mark you up.

throwing your head back as the rough material of his jeans grazes against your sensitive bud, you went harder and rougher at grinding, this time making him let out low moans to the sight of you getting yourself off on him

“you like that baby? you like it when you use me like that?”

you frantically nodded at him as you closed your eyes and bit back moans as you went faster at your grinding, nails digging into his chest as you feel your high coming.

“come on baby, just a little bit more”

your hips are digging into his bulge as your sensitive clit constantly grazes against the rough material as he also started grinding up towards your core to meet your rhythm. tears collected at the corner of your eyes threatening to fall at the overwhelming sensation you’re having. growing weak, you fell onto eric’s sweat glistening body, burying your head against the crook of your neck as you let out soft moans at how good he’s making you feel

“baby oh my god im so close”

“i know baby just a little more i know you can do it”

your moans growing higher pitched and ragged breaths against his neck is tickling the sensitive area as your hips continued to roughly grind against his own, god you wished you didn’t tie him up so he could hold you in place.

your nails that were digging and making new scratches on his skin now weakened, your body slowly relaxing as you came undone on him. plopping his hips back on the mattress as you plopped yours on his hips.

admiring his body and face glistening with sweat making him even hotter than it already was, you bit your bottom lip as you carefully traced a pattern up his abs and chest until it reached his neck. you took a hand and wrapped it around, careful to add light pressure around the sides. his lips slighted parting at the subtle action you cant help the inviting look of his pink swollen lips from biting back all those pretty moans of his from earlier.

your lips on top of his own, you muttered against the pretty pair

“now let’s talk”

his lips parted slightly bigger ready to speak but your grip growing alarmingly tight around his way prompted him to swallow the words

“so… a little birdie told me on the dance floor…”

you trailed off slow, letting the fingers of your free hand trail leaving lingering touching up and down and skin while holding his scared gaze on you.

“that you take pleasure into hurting others? is that right you fucking douchebag?”

you can feel him swallow a lump down under your palm around his neck

“answer or else i’ll make sure to tighten this that you won’t see the light of tomorrow”

the already tight grip on him prompts him to nod his head frantically

“tsk, what? suddenly you can’t talk? i heard you say the same thing to your little victims”

“so tell me, how does it feel”

silence filled the air as he couldn’t pull himself to talk to you when fear filled his eyes. who are you and what did you do to the girl of his dreams

frustrated at him refusing to speak, you brought your free hand up from you back and sent a blow right under his ribs, making sure to hit him right in the diaphragm making him sharply inhale a breathe as his eyes widen in fear.

“talk”

tears now gathered at the corner of his eyes threatening to fall. shifting in your position, you were now on sitting on his chest, his throat perfectly under for you to shift all weight onto that hand and strangle him to death

growing even more frustrated, you pulled the tight grip away from him making him take a deep inhale of air but cutting that moment short as you landed a sharp and harsh slap across his cheek leaving a red stinging mark on it with a little scratch slowly opening up as little drops of blood seeped through.

examining his alarmed state closely, you see him open his mouth rather wide, ready to shout for help but you were quicker. your hand flew back to grip around his throat making him choke on air.

“make any noise and you really won’t see your precious tomorrow”

glassy eyes filled with anger looked back at your own that was full of mischief.

“so, the little birdie told me…. that you stopped bothering him and went to bother someone new…”

lies

you licked your bottom lip as you felt him swallow another lump

“well guess what… him not being bothered anymore isn’t going to stop me from inflicting karma unto you. got that?”

leaving all thoughts behind of who this little birdie of yours is, all he could do was nod frantically in fear as venom dripped from your mouth. leaning into his ear you whispered life-sucking threats to him like a lullaby

“and listen carefully, if you think… im going to let you mess with more kids your age and make their lives miserable… then think again.”

“the pain you inflict on them? expect that coming back to you. im going to do this for the next days, weeks and months if i should”

“thinking about breaking a bone or two to your new play toy over this for relief? then know that i will personally break your bones for you”

“baby you may break bones and puncture lungs for a living, but i can do just as much to you, now remember that if you ever try to touch anyone again”

looking up at the poor boy, tears streamed down his face as quivering lips stayed agape shaking uncontrollably as his breaths were quick and ragged against your face looking down at his pitiful state.

“listen here you fucking bitch, i personally came from your own school, i know more birdies than you think”

lies

you spat to his face one more time before pulling away your grip on his airway and climbed off of him to get dressed leaving him gasping for air chest rapidly heaving up and down as air slowly fills his lungs again.

“and one more thing, expect me to be around you more baby”

the petname was the cherry on top for him, a name so innocent yet sounded so life-threatening.

bending down to pressing one last soft kiss unto his neck as your hand slowly comes up to his mouth before applying pressure to his lips as you muffled his scream and when you bit down rather harshly at the skin. a little more pressure on it and it would’ve been bleeding

“tsk what would’ve happened to me if someone heard you scream like that without my hand”

you clicked your tongue as you threw another air-sucking blow to his diaphragm before walking off.

fixing up your messy hair and hastily wiping off smudged make up you looked at him through the vanity mirror he had, entertained at the way he was so horrified at you to not even move a muscle or beg you to loosen the restraints. walking away from the mirror you made your way to the door of his bedroom, sending off one more wink towards his way before you shutting it close and leaving the party.

masterlist

[amerrierworld]

Babysitter (pt 9)

Thor (Ragnarok) - fanfiction

Pt 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 

Summary: A Loki interlude.

Characters: Hela, Loki

Word Count: 2,111

Warnings: Idk, swearing?

Loki was incredibly annoyed at the current situation. 

He’d woken up on a random, clunky spaceship with a pounding head and a bruised neck. He remembered the world going blank and being quite certain that he’d been dead until, frustratingly so, his lungs gasped for the most painful breath he’d ever taken. 

A janky pirate ship had snatched him from floating in space amongst the debris, stripped him of his armour -no doubt to sell or melt down into other knick knacks- and left him in the back amongst the cargo. They’d presumed he was dead, so when he had woken up, they had a bit of a shock. 

Not a word was comprehensible, Loki couldn't understand whatever gibberish language they spoke, so he ignored them and shuffled to their food supply. That got him a whack on his back from a whip and a kick to the back of the knees. 

Trying to take back his armour also earned him a few bruises. They didn’t seem very dangerous, but quite a nuisance. 

Amongst the cargo he found familiar debris that struck an icy chord inside Loki. There were piles of Asgardian clothing- ripped and filthy, but Asgardian nonetheless. Bags with very few belongings, and metal scraps of the ship they had been on. 

It didn’t take a genius to figure out that the remainder of the ship of refugees was probably lost. When the pirates began to beat him again for rummaging through their stuff, a rusty old pipe amongst the stolen goods helped quiet them down immensely. 

With his kidnappers knocked out, Loki scarfed down what measly rations they had and set course for Earth at light speed -well, the closest speed they got to light speed which was more like a quick paced jog. 

He tied up the crew and tossed them in the back, and lounged in the cockpit as the ship traveled on autopilot, picking scraps of food from between his teeth. 

Communications on this ship were absolute garbage, he concluded. There was barely any signal and he couldn’t figure out where the closest planet was. So, he took a nap, ate some more food, and tried not to think too much about the harrowing experience of Thanos choking him to death.

Hours later, they entered a very familiar atmosphere. Loki let the ship crash-land, grabbed a bag of few supplies and hopped out just before they hit the ground. 

He marched on through the thicket of trees where they landed. Angry shouts that were no doubt curse words echoed from the smoking ship as he left them behind and tried to gather his bearings. 

An old cabin was the first building he saw. With a rusty dagger at the ready, he inspected the home around the back, looking for a vehicle he could take, something to get him moving faster than his legs, when suddenly a high pitched shriek nearly shattered his eardrums.

A young girl, no older than six, was staring at him with big brown eyes. Rain boots covered in mud, an aged stuffy in her hands. Loki put his finger to his lips, dreading that he was going to have to kill the girl before she gave him away or screamed bloody murder. 

“Daddy! There’s an Avenger in the yard!” she sped off towards a shed, where there was a light on inside. Loki’s shoulders slumped in disappointment. Whatever outcome he was expecting, this was by far the worst. 

“I’m not- fuck.”

He shoved the dagger away and out of sight and stomped towards the shed, fuming with annoyance. He was about to go off at the man for letting his daughter talk to random strangers and how he certainly was not an Avenger, but the man in question had a large saw in hand and about 200 pounds of muscle to carry, so he snapped his mouth shut. 

“Oh, hello there,” he said, his daughter bouncing about the workshop. “What brings one of you all the way out here?”

“And where exactly is out here?” Loki asked.

“Canada! What, you superheroes never been to Canada before? Always hanging around New York, eh? Are you taking a trip or something?”

“No. I, uh, crash-landed here.”

“From space?” the girl piped up, gawking.

“Yes, from space,” Loki said through gritted teeth. “Fighting angry aliens.”

“I told you, Daddy! He’s a hero!”

“I bet you’re trying to find your way to America, then? Lord knows why, there’s all kinds of weird things happening around town nowadays.”

“What do you mean?”

“Half the world’s gone! Poof! Just like that, some alien business I bet.”

“Are you going to save us from them?” his daughter asked again. Loki sighed.

“I’ll try my best. Now, can you please show me how to get to New York as fast as possible?”

The lumberjack’s husband took Loki and his daughter in his jeep and drove a merry long way to the nearest airport. On the way, the little girl asked him all sorts of questions about the Avengers, that he could only half-answer.

“Is it true Thor is super powerful?”

“Well. He's not that powerful. He just uses a hammer. Anyone with a hammer can use it as a weapon and suddenly be considered powerful.”

“I wish I had a super powerful hammer. Then my brothers would stop teasing me so much.”

“Hey,” her second father softly scolded.

“They’re mean!”

“Sibling feuds? I know the feeling,” Loki muttered.

“Do you have siblings, Mr. Avenger?”

“Sure do,” he smiled wryly. “Absolute bullies.”

“Me too!”

“Hey now, let our guest settle down a bit,” her dad said. “She gets a little excited around new people, so sorry.”

“It’s no problem.”

“The local airport’s just up here. It’ll take you to Detroit, and then you gotta get a connection flight to New York.”

“Thank you,” Loki said, genuinely.

“Why are you going to New York, Mr. Avenger?”

“To find my siblings,” Loki sighed. “At least, one of them should still be there.”

“But they’re mean to you?”

“Yeah,” Loki pondered as the car came to a stop. “But they’re family. I suppose.”

-

A few cunning lies and disguises later, Loki was suddenly landing in New York, amidst chaos. It had been a few days since he’d woken up, and apparently a few days since what they call the ‘Blip’. Humans clearly don’t like having their realities altered. 

Your home was abandoned. Alfred didn't even greet Loki at the door, and no amount of pulling and prying opened it for him. The lights were off, and he feared the worst.

It wasn’t until he was in the streets and overhead muttering about some crazy goth lady terrorizing a nearby street that Loki thought he had finally found something.  

He marched down the street until, to his surprise, he found Hela sitting hunched on the side walk, scowling and daring anyone to come close to her. She looked incredibly tired and disheveled, but her eyes were clear and angry, and recognized her idiot brother immediately. 

“What the hell brought you back here?” Hela snarled. 

“A toddler’s wisdom, if you’ll believe it,” Loki said, ignoring her glare as he sat down next to her. 

“You look like shit.”

“Thanks. So do you.”

Hela grumbled. 

“Have you eaten?”

“Since when did you become Mother? I don't need your help.”

“Really?” Loki picked up a filthy scoop from a pile of three ice cream tubs that were fully devoured. He dangled it from his fingertips for a moment, pulling a face. “I think you do.”

“You’re supposed to be dead.”

“Glad to see you too, sister.”

Silence. Hela really did look like shit, Loki noted. Her hair was mussed, and there were rips and broken pieces in her armour, reminiscent of the time they’d met. She had to be weak not to bother fixing it with her powers, or was just too preoccupied to even think to fix it. 

“Where’s Y/N?” Loki asked. 

“Beats me.”

“Did you kill her?”

Hela’s eyes snapped to his, a sudden fire in them. “How dare you say that?”

“Well, her home is abandoned and no one answered the door, and you’re here  cowering like a criminal. One makes conclusions.”

Something changed in her expression, and she turned her body to face him. “Abandoned?”

Loki frowned, “yes. Didn't you know?”

“No- I.. I’ve been here, the last time I saw her...” 

Hela jumped to her feet, nearly kicking Loki in the process. “That bastard, he took her, didn’t he? Him and his awful, forsaken pieces of shit he calls friends.”

“Who?”

“Our darling brother,” she spat. “He came in and- and threatened me, and then took her from me.”

She paced in front of him, green fire trailing behind her heels, hot with anger. She had expected you to come find her, take her back to your home, make her feel safe. But when you never came she had assumed you had abandoned her. Now, knowing Thor had taken you instead, filled her with rage.

“Where does your little posse hang out, hm? Some supposed secret lair? A great big castle in the sky?”

Loki blinked at her, at her sudden outbursts, at the scared glances from passerbys, and didn’t know what to say.

“Fine then, I’ll get her myself,” she growled, turning away from him. 

Loki nearly let her walk away, let her walk into whatever doom she was getting  herself into, but with a groan and a mad realization, he knew she was the only one he could rely on right now.

“Wait,” he said, reluctantly, hurrying after her and grabbing her arm. “You can’t just go running off. Tell me what happened.”

Hela spat at his feet. “I don’t need to tell you anything.”

“You care about her, don't you? Y/N? Why else would you want to ‘rescue’ her from our brother?”

“Be silent,” she hissed.

“No, no, I’m right, aren’t I? You care for her, but you messed up, and now you have no one on your side. That’s why you left, and that’s why Thor had to take her.”

Hela yanked her arm away before Loki could see her face, but he knew what she felt; remorse, and loss. 

“Tell me.”

And so, reluctantly, knowing she had no other choice, Hela sat him down, this time on an actual park bench rather than the ground. She told him what had happened, how her mistrust had turned to affection for you, and how Thanos had destroyed everything in the end, and how the Avengers had fought her out of fear.

“I know the feeling,” Loki agreed, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees, watching an elderly lady feed a bunch of pigeons as if nothing drastic had happened to the world the past few days. 

“And now I don't know where she is, and she probably hates me, but who am I to blame her for that?”

“If I know anything about Y/N, is that she cares about everyone, but it takes a lot more to win her love. She doesn’t hate you. She’s just afraid. I mean, you did after all break her window and run off into nowhere.”

Hela stayed quiet, made an annoyed sound in her throat, and looked away.

“I’m starving, how did you get all that ice-cream? Why not an actual meal? Or were you just eating your feelings?”

“Y/N doesn’t like it when I kill people, so it was either massacre the street or steal their dairy products,” Hela bristled. 

“Fair enough.”

“Now what, hm? You come out here, seemingly from the dead, chastise me for messing up, and now judge my diet? What do you really want, Loki?”

“Not sure, to be perfectly honest,” Loki said. “I thought I was dead, and then I wasn’t. Frankly, my priorities are shifting.”

“And what is your current priority?”

“Getting you back to Y/N so you stop moping around and fix this.”

“And how do you suppose we do that?”

Loki grinned, standing up. His armour shimmered and regained its full glamour; horned helmet and deep green cloak. 

“Taking notes from me, are we?” Hela grumbled. Loki glared at her.

“I was wearing this look long before you got here. Now, get up, we’re going to infiltrate the Avengers and give you your romantic happily-ever-after so you stop being such a pain in everyone’s neck.”

“You think we’ll just be able to get in? You really are as mad as Father was.”

“I’ve broken into quite a few places over the years, I’ll have you know. I’m the God of Mischief after all.”

“Am I supposed to be impressed?” Hela stood, her own armour strengthening again. 

“Shut it.”

A/N: Loki is not dead! I know he’s technically alive in an alternate universe or whatever.. but I wanted the Odin Trio to be together sooooo here we are. Let me know what you think!!

taglist: @midnight-lestrange​​ @cheerfullyvenomous​ @germansarechill​@gaylorrds @amii-nyc​ @waitingfortheendtocome​ @novakitten0901​@marvels-writings​ 

[fuckingdeadbutroyal]

Jasonette July- Soulmates AU- Part 1

Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3 - Part 4 - Part 5 - Part 6 -

Marinettes knees were bruised. Again! She was so so careful not to ruin her new summerdress on the way to Ninos 9th birthday-party and now her knees were all red and scratchy. “Not todayy”, the little girl whined while searching for some kind of medicine in her small pink backpack, hoping to ease the pain for her as well as the cause of her suffering: her soulmate, who seemed to have an eagerness to ALWAYS fall on their knees. A few moments and a frustrated huff later, Mari found herself punching her arm for some kind of payback and wincing right after. Why couldn’t she just have a harmless soulmate-bond? Why couldn’t she just dream of them like Nino did or have a tattoo like Chloe? Why was her bond forged through literal PAIN? 

Rounding the corner, little Mari found herself in a field full of green and blue balloons with loads of boys and a few chosen girls surrounding a happy Nino. The boy was currently bouncing like a basketball and grinning from ear to ear, while sneaking longing glances to a table full of presents, as well as various treats from the Dupain-Cheng bakery. Speaking of the Dupain-Chengs, their daughter was spotted by her best friend as she was about to put her present next to the others, which lead to him running to greet her and pulling the girl into a bonecrushing hug. Therefore Mari was left patting Ninos’ back and trying to catch a breath. “You made it! I saw your treats and I know you answered my invitation but I was still worried, this party wouldn’t be the same without you!”, he blubbered in all of his bubbly grace while trying to lift her, even though he wasn’t quite strong enough to succeed yet (which didn’t mean he wouldn’t try again tomorrow, he was now older and stronger than her, after all). 

Mari wriggled her way out of his arms, happy to catch a breath and giggling. A blush was gracing her face, leading to Nino blushing happily in return. “Of course I made it! I didn’t spend all week making you a present for nothing!”, she smiled as Ninos ears grew hot, “You spent a-all week making a present? F-for me?”, he stuttered with a big dopey grin splitting his face. Marinette nodded, another soft giggle escaping her mouth. All the guests were now watching them, holding their breaths. She handed him the pretty red box. Nino sat down on the grass right there in front of her and opened it, hands shaking with eagerness and breath held in anticipation. Mari sat across from him, covering her eyes with her hands, afraid of his judgement. This was her first time gifting someone one of her sewing-projects, after all. 

His delighted gasp led to her parting her fingers slightly, only now noticing all the tiny cuts covering them, no doubt the price she had to pay for still being clumsy at sewing (”even though I have been doing it for a year now, I should be better than that”, she mentally scolded herself). Her thoughts were interrupted by a round of gasps coming from the tiny audience surrounding the best-friends-duo. Marinette focused back on Nino and dropped her hands to her mouth, squeaking in delight. The boy in front of her put on the basecap she made him and was grinning even wider, which she, until then, wasn’t even sure were possible. He hugged her, in a much gentler embrace then the previous time. His fingers were soft, not covered in cuts and red spots, as he pulled away and took her hands in his, not caring about the giggles and ew-s from their audience, nor the blush creeping up Maris’ cheeks. “I love it...so much”, what he meant, though, was “I wish you were my soulmate”.

And Mari couldn’t agree more.

-----------------------------------------------

It was dark, a coffee mug was standing amongst an army of already finished ones and a droopy eyed girl was sitting in front of them, lazily turning a page on the book her english-teacher assigned her to read. She recognized the storyline, knew all the plot-twists and felt connected to the characters as if she’d been there herself. The strange thing about that though, was that she has never laid eyes on it before. Of course that didn’t stop her from reading it. There were assignments she had to fullfill and tests she had to ace, which were connected to that piece of literature and she couldn’t risk getting a bad grade due to a foolish reliance on her instincts. 

Instincs.

Yes that is what they are and of course none of this is connected to her soulmate. 

It couldn’t be, she couldn’t dare dream of it. They died, that’s what that numbness she felt for over six months must have meant. That’s why those scars were now gracing her whole body. Her soulmate could not have survived this. No mortal being could go through so much and still be breathing. 

The new bruises and cuts she was getting now and then? Her Ladybug suit can’t protect her from everything, being thrown over the Saine so may times couldn’t have left her with no traces whatsoever. Yes, that’s the reason. He’s not resurrected, that’s silly...there’s no way.

---------------------------------------------

“What happened to your lips, milady?”, Ladybugs partner purred as they layed on a roof not far from the eiffel tower, watching the stars, having just finished patrol a few minutes ago. “M-my lips?”, the 16 year old girl stuttered, a tiny voice immediatly occupying her, previously calm, mind with thoughts of her soulmate. They have been acting up lately, not that it was possible. They were gone. 

There’s no way, she must have been hallucinating again. She must have forgotten how she hurt her lip, she must be feeling side-effects from the loss of her soulmate. Her thoughts were spiralling and that tiny voice in her mind was whispering, filling her denial with doubts and cracks and making her heart beat faster. 

“Your lips, they look... different...”, Chat Noirs voice interrupted the turmoil in her head. Ladybug gazed over to him, only to find him closer to her then when they first layed down. His eyes were glistening, seemingly shining even brighter than the Eiffel Tower in it’s nightly glory. A foreign sensation ran through her veins, a weird tingling covering her whole body. It could have been mistaken for goosebumps, if it weren’t for the warm summernight they were currently enjoying. “They do..?” she said, though it came out as nothing more than a whisper, for he was already so so close, even closer than when they are in battle. Their noses were almost touching, his eyes took up all of her view and for once she wouldn’t dare complain. Since when does she like that proximity? Why is his warmth so intriguing? Why does she enjoy the way his arms found their place on both sides of her body? “They look so...red...like your suit...Ladybug re-”, he got interrupted by his lips sealed shut. Shut not with that redness he mentioned, not with that love or attraction and reciprocated admiration Adrien was hoping for. No, it was her red suited hand which covered his mouth to silent him. She felt it before she heard it. An earthquake was rummaging through the streets and handling it was much more important than handling that purring in her best friend.

-------------------------------------------------

Jason was annoyed. His fingers were full of cuts: sure, he was used to that. His hips were bruised from his soulmate constantly closing doors and cupboards with them, at least that’s what he thinks they do to cause such silly bruises: no problem, he didn’t mind dealing with that. His backpains he could deminguish by working out, though he has been thinking of finding them just to tell his significant other to better their fucking posture. But the tiredness? Holy fuck! It’s like he’s sleeping for both of them! Whenever he sat down to read he just... collapsed. Guess he’ll have to dream about it... yeah sure it’s fair, ‘cause after all she treated his wounds for both of them, too. It’s like she had some kind of superpower which made them heal clean, never leaving more than a white line behind. Nontheless, right then he would rather have ugly scars than have to deal with this inhuman tiredness. His grumpy grumbling was interrupted by Red Robin speaking up in his ear.

“Hood where are you? The portal is about to appear, we won’t be able to wait.”

“I’m on my way, give me 2 more minutes.”

“Hurry.”

With that, the line went silent and his mind went back to coordinating his grappling hook and limbs into getting him to the batcave in time. He had planned on finishing at least one of Terry Pratchets and Neil Gaimans novels in preparation for the moviemarathon he and his brothers had planned for the upcoming week. “Good Omens” is a masterpiece but he refused to watch any visualizers nor read the book if he hadn’t read all of the previous works the authors had published. “It’s not just about the continuation, it’s a matter of respect.”, he rememberd telling Stephanie, when she asked him why Alfred was handing him a box filled with a combined number of about a hundred books. He had work to do and reality to escape, but that last part was none of his lovely sisters business. 

Zoning back into reality he noticed he had already reached his destination. “Focus Jason. There’s a whole city just waiting to be pulled out of the ashes.” With that thought in mind, he entered the batcave and went straight for the portal, following his siblings into the destroyed city of love.

----------------------

Adrien was on edge. The fight has been going on for four days, the city was nothing but blood and ashes, the akuma-shelters weren’t enough to protect every citizien who has lost their home to the earthquakes and following akuma attacks. Many people have died, many have volunteered and too many of those have died in the process. It was traumatic, painful and quite honestly felt like the end of the world. They could fix it, of course. But to do so she had to survive and Adrien, or Chat Noir as you will, was not about to leave her unprotected. He didn’t know where she got her power from, why she could go on without taking a break for so long. He has lost count on how many times he saw her helping someone who was about to be crushed by a collapsing building, how many times she was screaming in frustration, torn between following the akuma and guiding a lost civilian to safety. 

It was an incredibly sneaky akuma. It was nearly translucent, consisting mostly of dirt and dust. It could hide in the mess it made, attack you from behind and you wouldn’t be sure whether it was a flying brick or it’s fist hitting your head. It hasn’t officialy announced itself yet, hasn’t given itself a name or shown any forms of weakness. Hawkmoth was definetly trying out a new approach and highly succeeding. The Dustmonster was probably planning on wearing them out until they wouldn’t be strong enough to resist it going for their miraculous.

In the beginning Chat felt like he could trust his Lady to take care of herself, trusted for her to keep the target in mind and think of a plan while he was going to protect her and the citizens around them. It worked, at first. She figured out what the akuma was, aka figured out that it was an akuma in the first place and soon started giving out orders to police and firemen. After a day of trying to get the akuma, in order to stop it before things could go out of hand and failing to do so, no matter which strategy the heroes tried and no matter how many seemingly random Lucky Charms they used, they decided to replan. 

They met on a building not far away from Marinettes home, Chat remembered. They were hoping to come up with a new plan and let Ladybugs Kwami recharge. The recharging was an already practiced routine they came up with, once her fifth Lucky Charm has also failed. They jumped into the water, which was apparently off limits to the akuma, since the dust didn’t settle properly and it wasn’t able to hide (any attempts of getting it wet were blocked by the destruction of another building, which led to the heroes saving the civilans and themselves instead of attacking the enemy.) One of Ladybugs Lucky-Charms straight up covered the Saine, turned up side down boats now gracing the surface. Those boats mobilised possible hiding and resting places for the heroes. 

That time though, they needed more food for Tikki and Plagg and what better place to restock could there be, than the famous Dupain-Cheng bakery?  Ladybug swung in and came back with two baskets. One full of cheese and the other full of cookies. Chat grabbed the smelly one and turned to jump in the direction of the river, when they heard it. 

A grumbling which turned into a roaring and finally morphed into deafening laughter. That was the first time they heard the akumas voice. Instead of shouting the following words, the way it did scream in laughter, it just spoke in an even, eerie and scarily confident voice: “You should stop asking for help, insect. Helping others only leads to you getting hurt. Help won’t save you. Your precious little safety-nets won’t save you.”, the sound was coming out of the dust, echoing off of every destructed creation, seeping into each broken bone and every fractured mind. “You think you can reach out? Think someone is going to pull you away from under the pressure of this worlds eternal suffering? You are wrong. No one came to save me, no one is capable of saving. You.”, the last word came out emotional. The monotone voice the akuma had previously used to preach it’s intents was gone. A shiver ran up Marinettes spine. The dust surrounding the city build up and rose in columns, coming out of every broken source from all over Paris, towering over it, looming dangerously over it’s citizens. Everyone was trying to decipher the meaning of those words, Adrien was the first one to realise. 

“Marinette!”

Ladybug first looked at him in shock, thinking he had figured her out, then she realised what he he had actually meant. Chat was off, jumping on her balcony and screaming her name. 

“No...”

The silence before the storm, the frightening towers of dust and dirt started moving, accompanied by horrified screams of terrorised civilians. The dirt wasn’t meant for them, though. It flew as if it were one. Gigantic snakes with one single target. 

Marinette ran, but the destruction was quicker.

The Dupain-Cheng ceiling collapsed. Marinettes yo-yo missed it’s target as she plummeted to the ground. Her vision was blurry, her mind blank, eyes wide and  breath unconciously held. 

She didn’t recognize the pain as she hit the pavement. 

She didn’t even think as she called out for her seventh Lucky Charm. 

Ladybugs cry echoed through the ruins of Paris as her usualy leather-clad partner fell from the sky, with tears in his eyes and covered in a red and black spotted suit. “Sabine she’s...they’re...”, both of them broke down crying in each others arms. Adrien never knew how great his partners pain actually was, in comparison to his.

---------------------------------

Hi! This is my first try at writing MariBat and my first fanfic in like... 4 years? 

I’ve just recently graduated Highschool so I’m now embracing my free time and trying to get back on my creative track.  

Please comment, I NEED to know what you think of this. Critique and all that is very appreciated, even a simple “YES” is going to absolutely make my day and, honestly, you could comment about dogs and I’d be happy to read it. 

Thanks for reading ^^

[fangirlingincamouflage]

Blind Hope: Chapter 7

Title: Blind Hope Author: Rosie Dayze Word Count: 1,232 Pairing: Nick Jakoby x Reader Chapter Rating: PG-13 Themes: Angst, Plot, affectionate frustration Disclaimer I do not own Nick Jakoby, he is the intellectual property of Netflix Originals, I make no money from this fanfiction. Dedication: @14readwritedraw96 and @thezucchini​ (For being so wonderfully enthusiastic) TW/CW Descriptions of pain, long term hospital stay

Previous chapters:

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7 <~ You are Here

You are standing in the middle of the pasta isle at the grocery store when your cell phone goes off. It's that distinctive ping of an unknown number texting you. You sigh, roll your eyes, and wonder what is the easiest possible thing that you can make for dinner that night. In the past six days your workload has tripled. June and Em are on a much needed vacation and Nick is still unconscious at the hospital.

You know that because you called right before you left to go grocery shopping. You also called first thing this morning, and last night, and the morning before, and the night before that. You have called the hospital at least twice a day for the past thirty-seven days. You got the exact same information.

“Officer Jakoby is still in an induced coma, and he is not ready to be seen by friends or family.”

It was maddening.

Your phone goes off again and you set a jar of premade sauce back on the shelf. Your stomach isn't feeling red sauce. It isn't feeling pasta. Or oranges. Or any one of a thousand other things you were totally down for eating. You hadn't been hungry since the night part of LA went up in magical flames. Since Nick had been hospitalized.

With a sigh you eased into the snack isle. Is a bag of chips an acceptable replacement for dinner? Probably not, but you've had take out for the past two weeks and absolutely none of it has filled the steady, continuing ache in your heart.

Your phone goes off again.

“What?” you snarl loud enough to make the old lady with a basket full of frozen dinners blink with bewilderment. “Sorry. Not you.”

You pull your phone out and waive it at her. She doesn't look convinced, and doubles her speed to get into the next isle.

With a few swipes you bring up your new messages.

“This is Jessica, the Head Nurse at the Intensive Care Unit at the UCLA Medical Center.” The first message reads.

Your heard pounds so hard in your chest that your vision goes a little hazy. You grip your phone tightly enough to make the screen rainbow with protest.

“Nick Jakoby has achieved a state of continuing consciousness. One of my nurses made the mistake of telling him that you had stopped by.”

That hazy feeling turns to ash. You had wanted to see him yourself, to let him know what had gone on, and why you hadn't talked to him in six, not seven, months.  He must be angry, furious.

The third message is brief, and comes across as a little mad. “In order to keep him in bed, I promised him you would come see him tonight. Do not make me a liar.”

You desert your cart, and take the shortest possible trip to the hospital that you have ever taken. Which is impressive, considering all the times you driven up there in the past month, just in case something had happened between your morning and evening check-ins.

You don't stop at the front desk, you know where you are going. The elevator doors close as you turn the corner, and the wait for the next ones seems like an eternity. The moment the doors whoosh open, you surge inside hitting the buttons for the ICU floor. You don't even wait. You ht the close-door button and watch your reflection stare back at you as the lift starts to rise.

What are you going to say? Should you have gotten balloons? Flowers? A stuffed animal? Would he even be allowed those things? Did he want them from you? Did he want to see you to make up or to have a final talk? In the twenty-eight seconds that it takes to get to your floor, your mind plays out you greatest hopes and worst fears in a strange, overlapping loop that leaves you feeling a little lightheaded.

Though maybe that has something to do with the fact that you haven't eaten well in a month.

Your clothes don't fit right, you think as you tug at the fabric. You should have gone home to change. You were wearing your comfy clothes to go shopping. The fabric weird. Then you realize its not the fabric, its your own skin. You are so nervous that your skin feels like an electric current is running through it. With a huff you roll your shoulders, trying to settle your nerves. It doesn't help.

The doors slide open and as fast as you got into the elevator, you hesitate to get out. This could go wrong. What if his mother is there? His partner? What about Johnassen, the jerk who broke his phone so long ago?

It doesn't matter you tell yourself as you take that first step off the elevator. All that matters is he's awake. You'll be able to see him with your own eyes.

A stern looking woman with stark gray curls looks up from a desk as you approach. She tilts her head and inspects you.

“For Jakoby?” she asks like she already knows the answer. “Follow me.”

Your heart is in your ears as you follow in the steps of her worn out shoes. She swipes her badge, taking you through a set of secure double doors. The sounds of the hospital change. The ICU is bereft of human noises, but it isn't quiet. You can hear televisions on a half a dozen channels turned down low, doing what they could to preoccupy patients who were in layers of pain. The sound of breathing machines hiss and whirl. A man in green scrubs wheels supplies down the hall. There's no happy, warm chatter. Just a strange sense of desolation and pain.

You do not like it here, and you can't imagine Nick here. Nick, with his warm laugh and kindness. Nick who kisses you like the universe exists in your lips. You want to scoop him up and take him away.

The nurse stops outside of a door at the end of the hall.

“They are quarantined behind a see through partition,” she tells you in the kind of no-nonsense voice that must come from years in her work. “Do not attempt to breech this partition.”

She holds out a long medical gown. Confused, you shoved your arms into the sleeves. She spins you, and starts to tie it up, and then she puts another one on your back, spinning you again so she can tie it in the front. She hands you a cap, and a mask, and you put them both on as she helps your feet into medical grade booties.

“How dangerous is it?” You ask as she holds up a pair of gloves to slip on your hands.

“Unknown,” she tucks the end of the gloves over the wristband of the double set of gowns. “But you saw the news, you know where they were. Better safe than sorry.”

She types a number into the key pad. “You get ten minutes. No more, no less. I'm not being mean, but we need to minimize any chance of exposure.”

You nod your understanding. Ten minutes isn't much time, but you'll make the most of it.

“There are armed men in there,” she finally says. “Don't do anything to make them think you are a threat.”

It's the last bit of advice she gives you before the pad turns green and the door is opened.

The room is long, white, and empty save for what looks like a box made out of hanging plastic. Only a few of the lights are on, casting half the room in evening darkness. There are several beds, but only one of them is occupied. The long, lean body of a black male is visible beneath the harsh lighting. Three other people stand guard, dressed from head to toe, AR-15 clutched in their hands. The door closes behind you.

For a moment you stand there, frozen and unsure. A little, ugly thought makes you wonder if this is some weird trick. Then you hear your name.

Your eyes are drown to the shape of a man sitting in a chair. You hadn't noticed him at first because the dark lines of his body blend a little too easily with the pseudo darkness on that side of the room. But now that you've seen him, you can't pull your gaze away.

Nick. You'd know the shape of him anywhere. The broad, strong line of his shoulders stands guardian against the pitch black behind him. There's a blanket across his legs, and an IV in his arm.

“It's you,” he says softly, disbelieving.

“Nick.” You take one step, and then another, and before you know it your legs are carrying you across the room. You almost forget the plastic. When you foot hits it, you're startled. The guards watch you with cold glares. “Sorry.”

And once you start saying it, you can't stop. Over and over again you apologize. You don't realize you are crying until you taste the hot salt of your own tears. You are sorry you didn't call him. You are sorry you left. You are sorry you didn't answer him back. You are sorry for everything you ever did in the last six months because none of those things was going to him. You sink to your knees at the edge of the partition, the tears making it impossible to speak.

He says your name again, so soft you wonder if you dreamed it. You look up, and he's shaking his head.

“Please, don't cry.”

Slowly, unsteadily, he gets up. He doesn't look at you as he pulls the chair from one side of the plastic sheet box to the other. Right in front of you, he plops the chair down, and then lowers himself into it. His staccato motions belie how hurt he must still be.

The pair of you are silent as you look one another over. You see the bruises beneath his woad blue spots; purple and yellow and, in some places, black. You see the stitches in his arm, the thick swelling of his hands. The skin around his cheeks is slack with the lack of food he's gotten in the past month. But his eyes, those gorgeous eyes that are yellow and red and orange all at once, they are filled with pain that has nothing to do with being thrown half a football field by a magical explosion.

“You're here,” he says, his voice soft. “I thought-” He stop short, shrugging, and then wincing.

“I know,” you tell him. While you aren't sure of the exact words he must have thought, you know that it couldn't have been good.

“Why?” he asks.

You open your mouth to tell him, but the words wont come. You remember Elizabeth, his mother, and the way she had looked at you. You could tell him everything, but what good would that do? He might get angry at his mother, it might cause some kind of rift between them and how many people did Nick really have who cared that much for his safety? Not nearly enough, you think as you take in injuries you hadn't noticed before.

Instead you shrug. You can't bring yourself to lie, but you can't bring yourself to tell him the truth either, no matter how much it's burned inside of you. You turn the words that she said over in your mind, pulling an answer from them without revealing their source.

“You got hurt because you were with me.” Your voice cracks as you say it.

His eyes close and his shoulders sag. His body leans forward. You think he's about to slide out of the chair. The pair of you kneel on the floor, staring at one another. Emotions that you don't think have ever been named whirl through you. You want to touch him, you want to hold him, you want to vanish together into the night.

“No,” he said shaking his head. “No. You were just the excuse. When they saw me-” he cuts off, coughs, and shakes. “They'd already decided what they were going to do.”

He looks away. You can tell that there's more to say, that he's struggling. Rather than push you give him a moment. He deserves that at the very least.

“It wont happen again,” he says.

“Why not?”

He opens his palm, I can't see anything there, but he must because he's staring down at it like it's something special.

“I can't talk about a lot that happened that night,” he says. “I want to, I want to tell you everything but...I can't.”

You shake your head. “I just need to know you are safe.”

“I think I am. I mean-I gotta tell you, it was not a normal night. I was...I was blooded.”

Your eyes go wide. You can't help but stare at his lips. He smirks.

“It'll take a while for the tusks to grow. But I don't need to file them anymore.”

You sit back on your heels. “Are you okay with that?”

He shrugs. “I guess that depends.”

“On what?” you ask.

He takes a deep breath and looks at you. It's a long look, a scared and hopeful one. It's like he's weighing a thousand dreams as he watches you and all you can do is wait.

“I thought I was getting over you,” he finally says. “It'd been months. Long months. Really, really long months. My mom even set me up on a couple dates with some unblooded girls from other states.”

Your stomach twists.

“Yeah?” you say, hoping that he's not about to tell you that he has moved on and this whole thing was about him saying goodbye.

“They were nice, but they...they didn't understand me. They didn't like what I do. They didn't like my jokes and they all thought Alaska is stupid.” The two of you laugh and it feels so good. He shifts his position until the two of you are nearly the same height. “I wasn't falling for someone else but I was pretending really hard like I was getting over you.”

You nod, you know what he means. You'd been going through all the motions, acting like you were moving forward when all you were doing was playing the role and hoping.

“I was going to come see you,” he said. “As soon as my shift was over that night. I was going to go right to your apartment. Everyone said I shouldn't because I'd just get hurt, but I thought that it would be worth it. I just..”

Slowly he reached into the blanket still twisted around his legs. His thick, injured fingers shook with pain as he pushed the fabric around.

“Where-hold on-it's here, I swear.”

Your heart, which has already gone through far too much, pounds all over again. Your mouth goes dry.

“Nick...”

“I almost died you know,” he says as he lifts a corner, continues to look. There's a little wetness on his brow, and you wonder if it's fear, nerves, or pain that's put it there. “And not just once. I almost died like four times.”

One of the guards cleared their throats.

“I know,” Nick said, holding up his free hand. “I know. I can't tell her anything. But you only have to look at me to see that it happened.” He went still, and bowed his head. “I did die.”

It's not even a whisper, there's no sound. It's a breath of words that you are sure the guards couldn't hear. You pounding heart turns to ice in your chest.

“What?”

But he doesn't say it again. Instead he looks up at you and his eyes are bright with a hundred emotions. “And all I could think about, was you.”

He holds out his hand. Nested there is a black velvet box. Carefully, he opens it, revealing a ring. It's made of two metals, platinum and rose gold, twisted around one another to form a very simple braid, and right there at the center is a stone in the exact same shade of blue as his spots.

“All  I thought about every day has been you,” he is saying when your ears start to work again. “And I don't want to ever have to worry again.”

You swallow twice before you can speak. “Are you proposing?”

You aren't sure if he's blushing, but his ears twitch. “Only if you're saying yes.”

“You have to ask,” you say. “You have to...ask.”

“Is it a spell? A human thing?” he says.

You shrug, because it kind of is, but mostly you just need to time to stop your thoughts from making such a commotion in your head. There are a hundred ways this could go wrong, a thousand even, but even so-

He says your name and you find that he's shifted yet again, down on one knee in front of you. “Will you marry me?”

[lokislytherin]

euphoria // vampire!jungkook

pairing: vampire!jeon jeongguk x human!reader

summary: you’re scared of vampires - until one saves your life one night.

word count: 1988 + 1808 + 2373 + 1798 + 1046 + 2113 + 1646 + 1569 +

chapters: prologue / chapter 1 / chapter 2 / chapter 3 / chapter 4 / chapter 5 / chapter 6 / chapter 7 / epilogue

a/n: tag yourself i’m jin ( @jungkooksbish​ when things have changed since you’ve last read this)

When you walk out of the bathroom, it's with a clean body and a clear head, and you feel much lighter because of it (you've lost blood, but whether you've lost any weight is still debatable).  Seokjin is still knocked out on the couch, but Jeongguk, however, is nowhere to be seen.

Worry sparks in your heart.  Where could he possibly be?

And then you see it - there's a rather large lump under your blanket.  You laugh softly when you gently lift the covers to find your favorite vampire, asleep and snuggled against your pillow.  At least you assume he's asleep - he's got his eyes closed, but like he told you before, he doesn't actually need any sleep.  

He deserves a rest - he and Jin both do, after tirelessly taking care of an unconscious you for the past few days.  You sit down next to him, careful not to wake him up.  In sleep, he looks so young, so innocent.  He's drooling all over your pillow too.

But that's alright - the sight of this peaceful Jeongguk makes your heart beat a little faster, and you feel all warm inside.  You really are in love with him, aren't you? Impulsively, you lean down and kiss his forehead.

Jeongguk's eyes snap open, but you hover over him, shamelessly ignoring the fierce blush lighting your cheeks.  He smiles mischievously.  "Y/N, have you been watching me sleep?" The sound of your heartbeat accelerating is more than enough of an answer for him.  "Next time, you could be a little more subtle when you pull an Edward Cullen, yeah?"

You laugh.  "Does that make you Bella?"

He snorts, but the smile stays on his face.  "I don't like Twilight, but if it makes you happy then I'll do it."

"You make me happy," you declare, "even if Twilight sucks."

Jeongguk nods, expression serious, but twinkle in his eyes betray the whole act.  "That was so cheesy, but I'll take it.  I'll take everything you have to give me, and I'll give you back twice as much."

You coo at him.  "You're so cute, Gukkie." He pouts.  "I'm older than you, Y/N.  You can't call em cute." You pat his head fondly.  "Whatever you say, babe."

Jeongguk sits up.  "Actually, uh," the vampire says, fidgeting nervously.  "can I kiss you now?"

You nod.  "Thought you'd never ask."

He beams.  "Good!"

You squeal as he pulls the covers over you, then his lips are on yours, soft but firm and better than anything you've ever dreamed of.  His mouth slots perfectly against yours, bodies melding together like he's a part of you that you've been missing your whole life but never realized.  He kisses you hungrily, like he's a man lost in a desert and you're a life-saving oasis, real and right there for him to take.  It's an entirely new side of him that you're seeing - or rather, tasting - and so different from the shy Jeongguk who stammers and stumbles over his words whenever you tease him.

You like it, this new side of him.  You'll love anything he has to offer you.

His hands roam your body, exploring every inch of your skin that's available to him, familiarizing himself with every curve and every edge.  You pull away with a whimper of a gasp when one hand slips under your shirt, freezing cold fingers against burning hot skin.

"Guk," you tell him breathlessly, "I need to breathe, remember?" You wonder if he's had any relationships before - his lips are one of the best pairs you've ever had the pleasure of kissing.  Your ex when you were sixteen was a total disaster - the first time you two kissed, he stuck his tongue in your mouth, and it took you less than a week to break up with him.  It took you months to get him to stop contacting you.

"Sorry," the vampire says, not looking sorry at all.  "I guess I got a little carried away." He notices the wrinkle of your nose.  "Sorry if that was bad, I've never kissed anyone before-"

Your eyes widen a little.  You couldn't feel any inexperience from that at all.  "It's not you, I'm just thinking about something else. You're really good at this." He looks good, with kiss-bruised lips and a minor bedhead.  He smells nice, too.  Like Jin's shampoo, you think.

"What are you thinking about?" He still hovers over you, propping himself up with an arm and toying with your hair with the other.

You shudder.  "My ex."

He frowns, eyes flashing possessively.  "Time to change that."

Before you get the chance to take another breath, he's claiming your lips again, pinning you down with his body and caging you against your own bed with his strong arms.  He presses himself against you almost desperately, and you take the chance to return the favor.  You slide a hand under his shirt, only to be greeted with cold skin, and ooooh, a six pack!

His abs are rock-hard, and you're delighted to feel something else rock-hard poking into your thigh.  The vampire shamelessly ignores it, sighing into your mouth when you squeeze his ass with a hand.

Something sharp pricks your lower lip, and your mouth involuntarily opens. You can feel blood on your tongue, and something wet and slippery slides into your mouth.  Of course: only Jeongguk would use his vampire biology to French kiss you.  You don't complain - it doesn't feel gross, but your train of thought disappeared the second he started kissing you anyway.

You're interrupted by a high pitched, drawn out scream.

Jeongguk breaks away, albeit a little reluctantly.

Seokjin is making grabby hands at the door - the witch has his eyes squeezed shut, and he can't see that he's still got a few steps to go before he can reach the door handle.  "Seriously, you guys?" He wails, traumatized.  "I just woke up, and you're making out? I can't even leave, 'cause this is also my apartment! Now I need to find some holy water to bleach my eyes out.  Y/N, you owe me a life's supply of fried chicken.  Get me that new Mario figurine while you're at it!"

He stumbles forward and grabs the door handle.  "Use protection!" And he's gone, the door slamming shut behind him.

Jeongguk grins, completely unabashed.  "Oops."

"I don't think I'm ready for that yet," you tell him.  "Not now, but maybe later."

Jeongguk smiles softly, reverting to 'sweet vampire boy' mode.  "That's alright, Y/N.  We've got plenty of time." He presses a chaste kiss to your forehead before grinning impishly.  "Definitely later." You like the way he says 'we' instead of 'you' or 'I'.  He's a keeper, that one, advises a voice in your head.  He'll be good for you, and you him.

"We've got time," you echo with a smile, "I like the sound of that."

"I think you'd like the sound of something else more." His tone is suggestive.

"Oh? What would that be?"

He grins.  "Me calling you my girlfriend, of course." Your eyes go wide.  "Well, only if you don't mind- do you want to be my girlfriend?"

You laugh.  "Babe, I think you already know the answer to that."

He shrugs.  "I guess we're dating now, lovely girlfriend of mine- hnng!"

This time, you're the one to pull him into a kiss, yanking him down by the front of his shirt.  

This time, it's a slow kiss, but no less passionate.  Kissing Jeongguk is nice, you think as he cuddles you under the covers.  His lips are kiss-bruised, shiny with spit, and he's marked you as his with a smattering of teeth-shaped bruises scattered across your throat.  He holds you like he has the world in his hands.

(When afternoon comes, Jin comes in to check up on you, finally deeming it safe to enter and exit mentally unharmed.  He finds you and Jeongguk curled up under the covers together, wrapped in each other's arms.  

Both of you look happy together - for once, you are asleep of your own free will and not out of sheer exhaustion, and Jeongguk looks exactly the same as he did all those years ago when they were neighbors, only Jeongguk is undead and much paler than he was before.  

It gives him an odd feeling of nostalgia - it reminds him of hot summer afternoons, a younger Jin watching over Taehyung and Jeongguk as they played until they fell asleep cuddled on the couch.  He wonders how Jeongguk would react if he know of Taehyung's current state: it wasn't a shameful secret, per se, but it was one with a heavy burden, one Jin would rather shoulder alone.

When he leaves, the door clicks behind him, a fond smile on his lips.  Even if he never finds the right one for him, he's glad two of his best friends have found safety and comfort in each other.  They're happy, so he'll be happy for them.)

[thepandapopo]

Absolute Truths

This idea wormed its way into my head and for the life of me I couldn’t get it out.

This oneshot is a little longer than the stuff I usually write (a whopping 8539 words), but I loved every minute of it. I tried editing it to the best of my ability, but honestly I suck at that. No beta, we die like Glenn. #SorryNotSorry #TooSoon ?

Please note this is non canon. The time frame for this is sometime after the Battle of Gronder post time skip and it is a mash up of the GD and BL routes (ie. Dimitri joins Claude and is no longer crazy; Rodrigue still dies. RIP).

Cross posted to ao3.

Pairing: Sylvain x Felix

Warnings: mentions of child abuse and PTSD

Synopsis:

When Felix and Sylvain get hit with a dark magic spell that reverts them back to children, the Resistance Army gets a deeper look into their bond and learn 5 absolute truths that form the foundation of their relationship.

OR

5 undeniable facts of Sylvain and Felix’s relationship.

Word Count: 8539

“Felix!”

Fuck. Sylvain loses sight of him for only a minute but that is all the enemy needs to overwhelm the already bombarded swordmaster.

Pulling the reigns sharply to the left, the Paladin charges across the battlefield, skewering any unfortunate enemies that dare block his way, the lance of ruin glowing like a beacon of fury despite the thick coating of blood on it. The air is heavy with the smell of smoke and dark magic, making it hard to breathe and blurring the red head’s vision. Regardless, Sylvain presses on; determined to get to his best friend in time before the group of mages over the hill finish casting… whatever ominous looking spell they are aiming at Felix.

“Sylvain, get out of here!” Felix shouts angrily, not even pausing his fighting to face the sight of Bella charging her way through the throng with her master astride her.

Shit. Felix cuts down another enemy.

It is never ending. No matter how many falls to his blade, another two enemies take their place. Felix isn’t stupid – he can see the group of mages prepping a dark magic spell in the distance, which makes him even angrier when he spots Sylvain riding to his aid.

Like hell he’ll give his childhood friend another reason to toss himself into harms way. Felix isn’t weak. He doesn’t need protection. And he sure as hell doesn’t want Sylvain to be the one who gets hurt trying to fix his mistakes just because he got a little too cocky and split from the rest of his battalion.

“Fuck.” Felix grunts and pushes his sword hard to disengage the thief that has him in a sword lock. He doesn’t bother to see if he is being pursued and dashes towards Sylvain who is now dismounting a short distance away, Lance of Ruin making quick work of anyone who strays too close for comfort.

Sylvain was undoubtedly within hit range of the spell now. If that idiot insists on being his usual self-sacrificing self, then the least Felix can do is use his own body to shield the older man and take the brunt of the damage.

The tell-tale crackle of magic behind him sets the hair on his nape standing.

Shit. Shitshitshitshitshit.

He isn’t going to make it. Damn Sylvain for being so slow – this is exactly why he keeps telling him to take his training more seriously-!

“Fe!”

The last thing he knows before succumbing to the darkness is a hard chest plate knocking the wind out of him and warm, strong arms that remind him of summers spent with a heart lighter than air.

----

1.       Sylvain always has, and always will protect Felix until the day he dies.

Leonie is one of two on the first shift of babysitting duty.

Undeniably, the orange haired paladin would be the first to admit that she wasn’t the greatest with kids, however there is only so much the tiny, and thankfully unconscious, Fraldarius boy can do given his current predicament.

No one really knows what happened after the enemy spell envelops Felix and Sylvain, the larger of the two curled protectively around his companion as they fall. No one even knows what the spell is.

But what they do know is that now, instead of a regular sized Felix Hugo Fraldarius and Sylvain Jose Gautier, they have a chubby cheeked blue haired cherub and an unfairly-cute-even-as-a-child ginger.

It is in the middle of bemoaning her poor luck at drawing straws when the mini-Felix begins to stir and she feels panic clawing its way up her throat.

“Ngghh…” small, unscarred hands balled into fist come up to rub at bleary amber eyes before they widen almost comically as they take in his surroundings.

“Uhh… hey.” His gaze snaps towards Leonie and she can feel her terror rising with mini Felix’s hysteria, clearly evident by the shiny glaze beginning to cloud his eyes and the fat crocodile tears gathering at the edges of his almond eyes.

“It’s okay, Felix. It’s just me.” She reaches out a hand tentatively in a placating gesture, but quickly withdraws back as young Felix lets out a squeak and scurries as far back into the corner of the bed as he can get, taking his older self’s wool Fraldarius crest blanket with him, as if it could shield him.

“Wh-wh-who are you?” The poor thing is absolutely terrified and damn it, Leonie wants to comfort him, but she is equally as distressed here and this is exactly why she didn’t want to babysit.

“It’s me, Leonie. You don’t… you don’t recognize me?”

It comes out sounding more like a statement than a question.

It’s so painfully obvious that little Felix has no idea who she is.

Which means he doesn’t have his memories.

Which means they are down two of their best generals.

Which means they are well and truly fucked.

So, Leonie does the only thing she can logically think to do.

“Come on,” She says, rising from her bedside chair and reaching for his arm. “We need to go tell Linheartd that the situation is much worse than we had originally thought.” But as soon as her hand wraps around his forearm, Felix screams.

“Oh shi-! Felix! Calm down, I’m not going to hurt you!”

If anything, this just seems to have the opposite effect and the wails increase to near piercing.

Leonie thinks it may be a trick of her mind, and probably her ears because holy crap does little Felix have a set of lungs on him, but she is pretty sure that Felix is screaming out a name.

Specifically, a name belonging to a certain red head that is, the last time she checked anyways, unconscious two doors down from his room and currently being watched over by Caspar.

“Fe!” The door bursts open and suddenly there is chaos.

Was being watched over by Caspar, Leonie amends in her mind.

“Get back here!” The blue haired warrior lunges and swipes his arm out trying to catch mini Sylvain who is slipperier than a fish in water, using his short height to duck between legs and launch himself onto the bed.

“Leave Fe alone!” Honey brown eyes that are so very familiar yet also so different, are glaring holes into Leonie and Caspar, proudly defiant and blazing with determination. Short arms stuffed into the smallest adult shirt they could find on short notice stretch out protectively, completely shielding Felix from sight.

“S-Sylvain,” comes the little sob from behind him and the older boy spares a second to throw a comforting smile behind him. “Don’t worry, Fe. I’ll protect you.” And Goddess, he sounds so genuine and earnest that it makes Leonie wonder what happened to cause their Sylvain to hide behind fake laughs and charming lilts of the tongue.

“Sorry, Leonie.” Caspar is gasping for air like he has just run a marathon. “I tried to keep him in his room but as soon as he heard Felix screaming, he was out faster than I could blink.”

“Ugh. Just go get Ingrid and the Professor.”

----

2.       Sylvain hates himself and his crest, but Felix likes him in spite of it.

A day later finds Ingrid watching over the five year old Felix (“What?! He’s five? But he’s so tiny.” “Don’t let him hear you say that or he’ll cry again.”) and seven year old Sylvain.

“Just stay in this area, okay?” She calls out over the din of raucous laughter echoing throughout the courtyard. “I don’t want you two wandering off and getting into trouble.”

The play wrestling pauses for a brief moment and little Sylvain sticks out a tongue at her.

“We don’t get into trouble! You’re just a party pooper!”

“Yeah! Party pooper!”

Shoving down the urge to smack her childhood friends into the next moon, Ingrid settles for watching with pursed lips as Felix dissolves into giggles, Sylvain’s grabby hands finding purchase in his sides and tickling him relentlessly. The look of such carefree happiness on their faces makes her heart clench and eyes sting.

If Ingrid is being completely honest… she misses this.

She remembers what it was like not carrying around a broken heart for a man buried six feet under, his remains not even whole enough to bring home. Back when she could play wrestle with Fe, Sylvie, and Dima in the dirt and then go to Glenn to kiss her knee better when one of them inevitably accidentally activated their crest and used too much strength, resulting in tears and scrapes and bruises.

It doesn’t do her any good to dwell on the past.

The dead should be left to rest, and the living should move on.

For an emotionally constipated guy, Felix is dead on with his philosophy.

Though she has long come to terms with her betrothed’s death, the small sliver of envy she has for her two oldest friends still lingers in the deepest, darkest recesses of her heart.

They’re lucky that they still have each other, even though they spend half the time bickering and denying their feelings.

“Is that the Gautier boy?”

Two monastery staff members stop beneath the path archway and look with undisguised admiration.

“So handsome at such a young age!”

“And I hear he’s incredibly charming too.”

Ingrid knows that Sylvain and hear them. He has always been keen of hearing, especially when it involves others gossiping about himself, for better or for worse.

Felix takes advantage of Sylvain’s distraction to get the upper hand and rolls on top, completely oblivious to the onlookers.

“If I were his mother, I would have secured him a betrothed as soon as he was tested for a crest.”

A hum of agreement. “Yes. His family is blessed with good looks so it would not be hard to secure an advantageous match. The Gautier line will likely continue on stronger than ever with such a prized heir.”

“Sylvain? Why did you stop?”

Felix is all wide eyes and adorable pouty cheeks, staring confusedly down at his best friend underneath him who has gone strangely silent with a strangled expression.

“Don’t you have duties to attend to?”

The two gossipmongers snap to attention at Ingrid’s sharp tone, her expression clearly telling them to get the hell out of here or risk facing her wrath.

With rushed replies of “yes, sorry miss!” and “our apologies”, they scurry off down the pathway and disappear around the corner.

But unfortunately, the damage is already done.

“Sylvain? What’s wrong? Why are you sad?”

Gently, the older boy extricates himself from Felix’s death grip of a grapple and stands up with his eyes cast downwards. “Sorry, Fe. I… I don’t want to play anymore.”

“What? What do you mean? Where are you going?”

“I’m tired. I want to go back to our room.”

It only takes one look at Sylvain’s expression before Felix is latching his fists into the fabric of Sylvain’s pants with a scowl on his face.

“You’re lying to me. Why are you lying?”

“I’m not lying, Fe! I don’t want to play anymore.”

“We’re best friends aren’t we?”

“Well, yeah, of course we are.”

“Best friends don’t lie to each other.”

Ingrid has patiently watched the exchange between Felix and Sylvain to this very moment, hoping that they can sort out this argument without her intervening like she always did as a child, but through years of experience, she can sense that one of them is about to snap and she would very much like to avoid that.

“You know the only reason we’re best friends is because our parents are friends and we both have crests.”

There it is.

It’s absolutely heart breaking how Sylvain has already learned to self destruct at the tender age of seven. If Miklan were still alive, Ingrid would skewer him a thousand times over for instilling the mantra of ‘you’re not worthy of love’ into Sylvain’s head.

“Hey guys, do you wanna go-“

“You’re a stupid head if that’s what you think.” Felix’s interruption shocks her. His usually bright amber eyes are fixed in a watery glare leveled at the boy opposite him. Right now, Ingrid may as well be invisible for all Felix cares.

“What?”

“You’re a stupid head!”

Sylvain looks absolutely affronted.

“No, I’m not!”

“Yeah, you are!” a few tears have managed to slip beyond the barrier and trail down Felix’s cheeks. “I don’t care that our parents know each other. And I don’t care about any stupid crests.”

Felix marches up to Sylvain with all the anger he can muster in his five year old glory and reaches up to smoosh his cheeks together. “I’d still pick you to be my best friend in the whole wide world because you’re funny and nice and I’m always happier with you than Ingrid or Dima.”

Sylvain can only stand there with his lips parted in round ‘o’ from his cheeks being pushed together and a dazed look in his eye. Felix takes this as a sign to continue his little tirade.

“And I know you’re smart so you should stop being such a stupid head because I don’t care what you think. You’re my best friend and I’ll always pick you over any stupid crest.”

“Fe…”

She recognizes that tone. Ingrid looks away then because she fears that if she doesn’t, the part of her heart that belongs to Glenn might just twist its way into her throat and choke her with envy.

Sylvain is giving Felix that look that she has seen many times throughout their lives whenever she watches her two friends from afar. It’s one that everyone, except for Felix, has seen a million times and knows that to Sylvain, the world around him has fallen away except for one person.

“You’re my best friend, Sylvain. So, don’t lie to me.”

For the first time since the gossipers appeared, Sylvain lets a smile slip through.

“Okay. I promise.”

Felix eyes him warily and searches for any hint of a lie in Sylvain’s expression. Once satisfied, he loops his own pinky around the one outstretched to him.

“Good. Now let’s go play Knights and Bandits!”

Perhaps it is because Felix is always looking ahead that he never sees how Sylvain looks at him like he was the one who hung the stars and moon in his dark sky, illuminating his life with happiness and love.

----

3.       Felix feels so much and Sylvain is the only one who understands him even without words.

A collective sigh echoes throughout the monastery when they find out that mini Felix and mini Sylvain aren’t too picky with their food.

Granted, even as a child, Felix shows a proclivity towards eating meat; but with a little friendly jostling from his best friend, even the youngest Fraldarius son can be convinced to eat his brussel sprouts.

Which is exactly why Claude is so baffled when Felix starts to protest eating during mealtimes.

“What do you mean he won’t eat?”

He’s well aware that he probably sounds like an idiot, if the exasperated look Lorenz is giving him is anything to go by; but they haven’t had any trouble before so it makes absolutely no sense that Felix would start being picky now.

“It’s exactly as I said,” Lorenz frowns. “We were all simply sitting together enjoying a meal, when Felix stopped eating and refused to finish his dinner. I’ve been told this is now the third occurrence in a row that his has happened.”

“Was he full?” Byleth pauses from looking through some supply requests to chime into their conversation. Although she has not outright said anything, Claude knows his love well enough to tell that she is stressed about their current predicament. Felix throwing a silent protest against food is just one more thing to add to her pile of worries that she doesn’t need.

“Don’t worry, Teach,” Claude winks and flashes his signature grin. “I’ll get to the bottom of this. You just worry about securing our supplies for the next moon, yeah?” His chair lets out a deafening screech as it drags across the floor, drowning out any protests their former professor may have and providing Claude the distraction he needs to usher Lorenz out of the room with him.

“Claude, are you sure you know what you are doing?” The doubt rolling off Lorenz would have offended a lesser man, but Claude has spent his life being the underdog and he lets the words bounce harmlessly off him. “Felix is not an enemy to be outsmarted. He is simply a child who only adheres to emotion.”

“I am aware of that, yes.”

“Then why do you look as though you are about to hatch a scheme?”

Because he is.

And although Felix is not an ‘enemy’, per say, doesn’t mean that Claude can’t use his usual tactics of watching and observing his opponent until he has hatched a plot to take them down. Hence, leading to Claude’s current position tucked away in the far corner of the mess hall during the following breakfast.

Even on his off days, Claude is always watching and learning. He knows the favourite foods of all his fellow comrades in arms and he also knows whom everyone’s preferred companion is.

There is very little that escapes his notice, and the Resistance Army leader is confident that he will have a plan by sundown at the very least.

It is a little past 8am when the two children sleepily trudge their way into the dining hall with Bernadetta, their ward for the day, close behind them.

Nothing seems particularly strange or odd when they join the line to retrieve their meal; and nothing remarkable happens either when Bernie leads them to the only empty table left in the middle of the hall.

“Good morning, Bernadetta!” Raphael greets cheerily and shuffles his mountain of food over to join the trio at their table. “Good morning, Felix, Sylvain!”

The little ones mumble back a greeting, but their voices are lost in the din of the morning meal chatter.

So far, so good. Felix is still eating his porridge (albeit with an adorable frown on his face) and talking animatedly about goddess knows what with Sylvain, who occasionally turns to answer a question from the adults.

“Oh, good morning, Bernadetta, Felix, Sylvain!”

Slowly but surely, the table begins to fill as their friends meander into the building in search of food to start their day. Greetings are exchanged and unsurprisingly, Felix and Sylvain garner a lot of attention due to their current forms. Sylvain, ever the chatterbox that he is, fields most of the questions; Whether it is because he is being considerate of his quieter friend or if he simply relishes in the attention is debatable, but Claude cannot help but notice how his eyes constantly dart back towards Felix who grows increasingly frustrated.

“Oh, you’re just too adorable!” Annette’s squeal of delight reaches even Claude’s remote corner and he assumes that the wince he sees from Felix is due to the sheer volume of the orange haired mage. Sylvain, the current object of attention, just flashes her his prize winning smile; his dimples making him look even more endearing than he already is.

The adults gathered around the children don’t even notice that Felix has stopped eating. Nor do they see Sylvain quietly reach below the table to grab Felix’s smaller hand in what looks to be a gesture of comfort.

In fact, it takes another five minutes of cooing and fawning before Raphael, of all people, notices that Felix is now glaring with teary eyes at his bowl of half eaten porridge.

“What’s wrong, little buddy? Not feeling well?”

Immediately the attention shifts to him and the effects are just as disastrous as Claude predicts.

“I’m not hungry.” Some of the porridge finds its way onto the table as Felix pushes his bowl away with such ferocity, Claude is half surprised it doesn’t completely tip over.

“What do you mean you’re not hungry?” Annette frowns. “This is the fourth time you’ve left a meal unfinished. Are you not feeling well? Do you need to go see Mercedes?”

“No. I don’t wanna eat anymore.”

“Are you sure you’re feeling okay, Felix? We just want to make sure you’re not getting sick.”

“I’m fine.”

It’s a big fat lie and anyone with half a brain can hear the distress and frustration in the blue haired boy’s voice. One lone tear manages to squeeze its way out of Felix’s water logged eyes and that’s all it takes for the table to burst into a flurry.

Claude almost feels bad for Felix as the adults descend on him like a pack of vultures, all of them crowding him and trying to coax the reason for his distress out of him. The Almyran prince has half a mind to go over and rescue his friend in arms from a situation that is probably in his top ten worst fears, but before he can even get out of his seat, Sylvain is already bounding out of his chair with a teary Felix in tow.

Sylvain shouts something about ‘Knights and Bandits’ and they’re out the southern doors before Bernadetta can even process what has happened.

Felix’s half eaten bowl of porridge sits on the table completely forgotten.

----

At lunch, Claude decides to test a hypothesis.

He asks Mercedes and Hilda to sit with the kids at lunch and pay special attention to Felix.

To everyone else, he gives them strict orders to leave their table alone.

Satisfied with how his experiment is set up, Claude finally seats himself back in his observatory spot with his own lunch sitting in front of him.

He’s not expecting amazing results. In fact, he’s not expecting his first hypothesis to be a success at all, but he wants to try it none the less because there is always the possibility that mini Felix fundamentally operates much differently than the Felix that he is used to.

What he doesn’t expect is for Felix to immediately shut down the minute Hilda tries to engage him in some conversation about the games him and Sylvain play in the courtyard.

Today’s lunch special is Daphnel Stew and Claude has it on good authority that it is a favourite of Felix’s (technically Dimitri is a reliable source, right? They were childhood friends after all).

Sylvain tries his best to jump into the conversation and pull some of the attention to himself, but Hilda is every bit as smooth of a talker as Claude is; deftly maneuvering the conversation back to Felix no matter what Sylvain does.

This time, it is Felix that reaches for Sylvain’s hand under the table.

Except instead of just holding Sylvain’s hand, Felix starts to pull at it every time Mercedes or Hilda asks him a question, as if pleading for his friend to save him.

At least Claude could now say for sure that Felix is not, and never was, a fan of being the center of attention.

When the first afternoon bell tolls signaling the end of lunch, Felix’s stew remains uneaten and untouched. On the way out of the hall, Claude looks the other way and pretends not to notice when Sylvain steals an apple from the pantry.

His experiment doesn’t exactly succeed, but he cannot write it off as a failure either. The information gathered from his two observation sessions is plentiful and a solution is forming within his mind even as he makes his way up to the war room to meet Byleth for their afternoon strategy session.

By the time he pushes open the door to his usual haunt, Claude is absolutely certain of two truths.

One, that Sylvain knows Felix better than anyone could ever hope to compare, and two, Felix Fraldarius is incredibly lucky to have an attentive best friend like Sylvain because stars above, does he suck with using his words.

----

When the hour before dinner time rolls around, Claude makes sure to talk to everyone he passes by and give them the order that no one is to approach Felix and Sylvain’s tables at mealtimes anymore. He tells them to pass the word around and it doesn’t take long before the entire monastery is in the know of their Leader’s command.

“Care for company?” Byleth smiles and sets her tray down beside his own without waiting for a reply.

Claude does a quick survey of the area to make sure no one is looking before leaning in to land a quick peck on Byleth’s cheek. Joy flutters in his stomach at her rising blush and he merely laughs and winks at her stuttered protests.

“Check it out,” Claude quickly changes the subject and nods his head over to where Bernadetta sits exhausted with a now cheerful Felix and Sylvain. The latter nodding enthusiastically to their conversation with the occasional laugh and both of their plates near devoid of food.

A tiny rush of pride swells when he sees the relived expression on Byleth’s face.

“Told ya I’d take care of it.”

Underneath the table, he flips his palm facing upward so that he can intertwine his fingers with her searching ones.

“Yes, you did.” The unspoken thanks lingers in the air between them, louder than the constant buzz of activity in the room.

For the first time in a while, the former professor looks more at ease. And Claude, being the shit stirrer that he is, cannot help but toss a little fuel into the fire.

“So… who do you think will wear white at the wedding? Between the two of them, I think Felix is the better choice.”

“What?!”

----

4.       Felix has an unwavering faith and belief in Sylvain that he’s not afraid to stubbornly stand by to the bitter end.

“Annie, are you sure this is a good idea?”

If Mercedes is concerned, then Lysithea is absolutely certain that no, this is most definitely not a good idea.

They are at the part of the training grounds where the various magic users can come to practice and hone their spells. The ground is singed with charred marks from stray thunder and fire spells, the black streaks contrasting starkly with the pale stone underneath. To the side, there is also a sand pit where mages can practice some more destructive flame based spells.

“I’m just a little curious, is all!” Annette whispers back. “I know Sylvain is really good with magic even though he never uses it. He was the one who helped me understand that magic formula that I was stuck on for a week, after all. I was thinking maybe he might show an aptitude for Reason as a child.”

“That’s fine and all; but I’m not really sure how safe it is to teach a child how to conjure a fire spell. That just seems like a recipe for disaster.”

The orange hair mage cannot help but look slightly put out by Lysithea’s comment.

Yes, maybe it wasn’t the safest idea ever… but Annette just really wants to find out the extent of Sylvain’s inherent abilities. Even after she makes him promise to take his training more seriously, she still feels like he is holding back on her when they are paired together.

“What kinda magic are you gonna show us?” Felix is eager and bouncing on his toes. The House Fraldarius specializes in swordplay, not magic, so this is a treat for him and he can barely contain his excitement.

“Oh well, I was thinking we could start off with a basic fire spell!”

“Oooh, fire!”

Annette really hopes that Felix doesn’t have a penchant for pyrotechnics.

As much of a bad idea as this is, Lysithea can’t exactly bring herself to leave them in case something goes terribly wrong. She is the strongest, most advanced Gremory the Resistance Army has; with her around, she’s confident that the worst that could happen would be some singed eyebrows and possibly an impromptu need for a haircut. But even that is an outcome that she is hoping to avoid.

Once the target is set up, Sylvain and Felix eagerly make their way over to the sidelines to watch Annette demonstrate a basic fire spell.

It’s nothing special really. Even the older Felix and Sylvain could probably cast it without much problem, but to their younger versions, the small ball of fire is so grand and spectacular that it warrants oo’s and ah’s and enthusiastic applause.

“Wow! That is so cool! Isn’t that so cool, Sylvain?”

Felix is pulling on Sylvain’s sleeve and the older boy nods emphatically with admiration shining in his eyes.

“Do you think you could do it too?”

Lysithea is startled to hear the question Felix asks Sylvain. Of course, Annette was already planning to ask the Gautier boy to attempt the spell, but that was out of curiosity.

From the shining look on Felix’s face, Lysithea knows that he is asking because in his mind, there is nothing that his smart, talented best friend in the whole wide world cannot do.

“Magic is difficult to learn and takes time. It can take years for some to learn just the basics.” She cuts in before Sylvain can answer.

She doesn’t want Felix to unwittingly trap him with an unrealistic expectation that he cannot meet and she figures it is better to disappoint him now rather than allow the red head to try and then feel guilty when he disappoints his friend.

“Sylvain is smart. I bet Sylvain could do it!”

Felix is pouting in that way that they are all quickly learning means ‘I’m right and you can’t convince me otherwise’.

“I’m sure Sylvain is very smart!” Mercedes agrees and gives the boys her best placating smile. “But I’m not so sure that a person could learn how to cast a Fire spell in one day! Why, it took Annie and I at least a week of practicing before we could do it!”

“Yep, I remember I almost burned my eyebrows off the first time I tried! But I can teach you the basics maybe and then we can bring you here again next time to practice?”

The urge to verbally reprimand the warlock for her relentless pursuit to satisfy her own curiosity rises and Lysithea has to physically clutch her biceps to stop herself from bursting.

Fine. If they were so eager to set themselves down this path, then so be it.

“Yeah!” Felix is literally vibrating with excitement and Sylvain looks nervous but determined to not let his admirer down.

Heaving a sigh, Lysithea moves to settle next to Mercedes who sends her an apologetic smile.

It was going to be a long afternoon.

----

Unsurprisingly, Felix does not do so well with learning the basics.

The diagrams and symbols are a little too much on the side of complex and it becomes apparent rather quickly that there is a reason the Fraldarius men carve through the battlefield with swords instead of magic.

“Aw, it’s okay Fe! You’re still the best with a sword anyways. You don’t need magic!” Sylvain ruffles his hair and smiles. “You’ll always beat me at swordplay.”

The small admission is enough to cheer Felix up and after a bit more nudging from the older boy, he runs off to play around with the wooden practice swords they have on the other side of the training room while Annette and Sylvain continue to work on creating basic magic circles.

It’s only after the third hour and Mercedes has long left to attend to various chores that Lysithea turns to watch Felix go through rather crude sword forms instead.

“You need to spread your feet farther apart.” Using her own foot, she nudges Felix’s left heel to the side to widen his stance. “Try striking again now.”

The wooden sword wobbles a bit in its trajectory, but the swing is undoubtedly much better than before. The sheer delight that lights up in Felix’s eyes almost makes Lysithea laugh out loud because she recognizes it as the same gleam she sees in the older Felix’s eyes when he executes a particularly hard maneuver.

“Why aren’t you watching Sylvain and Annie?”

For a five year old, Felix is incredibly perceptive.

Rather than lie to him, Lysithea opts for honesty because she is sure that’s what older Felix would have wanted.

“I don’t think he’ll succeed.”

Felix frowns. “You don’t know that.”

“Yes, I do. I know how hard it is to learn magic. I’m sure Sylvain is very intelligent, but it takes a lot of hard work to use Reason.”

“Sylvain can do it. I know he can.”

She sighs and turns a baleful eye down at Felix. “You’re a stubborn one aren’t you.”

“Glenn said that to me too when he didn’t believe me that I could stay up all night waiting for Sylvain.”

“And did you prove him wrong?”

Felix turns to full face her, expression full of gravity.

“Yup.” The dead seriousness of his tone looses Lysithea’s first laugh of the day and she cannot help but be drawn towards this little boy, the same way she was drawn to his older self.

Deigning not to continue a lost conversation, the cake loving Gremory opts to turn back and watch the progress that the other two have made, leaving Felix muttering to himself about his steadfast belief in his best friend.

----

“Alright, let’s see what you’ve got!”

The sun is setting and it is nearly time for dinner by the time Sylvain and Annette break away from Magic and Sorcery: Vol 1. to actually put some practice to the theory they have spent all day studying.

“Now, don’t be too disappointed if you can’t get it.” Annette says while moving out of the way. “You did just learn the basics and it takes a lot of practice!”

Lysithea has not moved from her perch from a nearby bench. She’s still extremely skeptical that Sylvain will manage to do very much at all. Yes, it is true that he had a budding talent for Reason during their academy days, but Sylvain hardly ever applied himself to any of his studies. The professor had to literally force him to attend one on one magic lessons with her before his aptitude for spells finally emerged.

Although, she muses, this younger Sylvain seems to be more enthusiastic to participate in things he was interested in. Even now, the scrunched up look of concentration on his face is indication enough that the Sylvain Lysithea is used to is a much different creature than the one before her currently.

House Ordelia does not really have any established trade routes with the Gautier territory, but the Ordelia heir has heard enough to know that the current Margrave is an arrogant, crest-obsessed prick.

It doesn’t take a prodigy to connect the dots and surmise that Sylvain’s carefree attitude and refusal to apply himself to anything is a product of his father’s suffocating expectations.

Fuck Margrave Gautier.

Maybe Lysithea does want Sylvain to prove her wrong and succeed; then at least he can go back home and light his father’s breeches on fire.

She’s only slightly disappointed when her expectations prove correct and the best Sylvain can conjure is one tiny flicker from a lone flame in his hand. However, it is still much more than she thought Sylvain would be able to do and for that, she is genuinely impressed.

Annette is also very much awestruck with Sylvain’s quick learning and happily informs the boy of this all the way to the dining hall. Sylvain is uncharacteristically quiet as he listens to the older mage praise him, but he is not yet skilled enough in the art of hiding behind a mask and the slight downward tilt of his lips does not go unnoticed.

“You really did an amazing job learning so much in such a short time, Sylvain! Don’t be too disappointed that you couldn’t do it.”

Sylvain gives a weak smile in return, but it is Felix who ultimately responds; one hand clasped tightly in the Gautier’s and the other one balled into a fist.

“Sylvain can do it. Just watch.”

----

Dinner passes without much fanfare and the boys are eventually tucked in for the night. Claude and Byleth have long decided that a full-time night chaperone is no longer necessary; although occasionally, one of their friends will peek into the room in the dead of night before they retire, but very rarely do they find anything wrong that requires their attention. A week has already passed with no incident, so there should be no need to exhaust their soldiers by keeping them up at night.

Except this time, when Petra nudges the door to their room open – being extremely careful not to open it too fast lest the hinges squeak – she does not see any sign of Felix or Sylvain anywhere.

It is the dead of night, but Garreg Mach Monastery blazes alive with a flurry of panic at the toll of the emergency bell.

“You’re absolutely sure no one saw them leave their room?”

Seteth slams his palms on the table and interrogates the night shift guards; his brows furrowed and mind racing a mile a minute.

If the enemy has somehow managed to sneak into Garreg Mach and kidnap the children, then they are well and truly fucked. They may have to abandon their home base or at the very least do an extensive investigation of their current ranks and re-evaluate their current passive defense.

“There were no signs that a struggle was happening.” Petra voices from her place around the war table. “I am having confidence that they left with willingness.”

“Goddess, please keep them safe.” The situation leaves a bad taste in Flayn’s mouth; it is much too reminiscent of when she was kidnapped and although it has been years since the incident, the memories still plague her.

Byleth’s voice leaves no room for discussion, “everyone split up and search the grounds. Most of our facilities are locked up at night so that should help limit the number of places we need to search.”

Everyone dashes out of the room with their orders and branch off at the second floor corridor. Those once belonging to the Black Eagle house comb through the main hall while the former Blue Lion students check all surrounding independent buildings; the Golden Deer fanning out to cover the outdoor grounds of the monastery.

An hour passes. Then another. And another.

Soon it is 3 in the morning and the panic is truly beginning to set in, giving rise to an unsettling fear clawing its way up from the depths of the night.

“Dimitri, Dedue! Have you found anything?” Ingrid pants and skids to a halt just below the stairs to the Sauna; the rest of her Blue Lion classmates run up to join her and debrief their findings.

“Nothing,” Dedue’s tone is flat as usual but his strangled expression is enough to betray his underlying worry. “We have searched all the open buildings and the grounds. There is no sign of them at all.”

Annette is near tears now and Mercedes places a hand on her shoulder, offering her silent support even while she herself is fiddling with her shawl, an attempt to keep her mind occupied before it spirals.

“It’s not like them to run away,” Ashe frowns. “Did anything happen today? Were they acting weird at all?”

“Not really. All we did was practice magic at the training grounds.”

Mercedes frowns. “Perhaps they left something there and went back to retrieve it?”

“The training grounds should be locked at 11PM. No one should be able to get in or out until sunrise.” Dimitri shakes his head.

“Well then we’re clearly running out of ideas here!” Ingrid throws up her hands in frustration and rakes them through her hair which is on the verge of looking like a bird’s nest. “We’ve checked the dining hall and the greenhouse but –“

“Your Majesty.” Dedue’s raised voice cuts Ingrid short and they look over to see the doors to the training grounds swing open slowly with a slight push of the man’s hands. “The doors were not locked as we thought.”

It takes only a heartbeat for them to scramble through the large wooden doors and down the hallway, their rushed footsteps echoing like thunder in the stone corridor.

“Oh Goddess. I smell smoke. Does anyone else smell smoke?” If her heartbeat accelerates any more, Annette is pretty sure she will have a heart attack.

“It’s coming from over there!” Their King leads the charge towards the magical training arena where the smell of smoke is the thickest.

When they burst into the open area, they are prepared for the worst. Weapons are drawn and hands raised with spells on the tips of tongues, but the sight they are greeted with is enough to shock them into stasis.

There in the middle of the sandpit, hunched over and panting hard, albeit with a brilliant grin on his face, is Sylvain. The practice dummy a few feet in front of him is alit with flames, illuminating the room with an orange glow, casting shadows along the stone walls that flicker like a live audience.

And off to the side bundled up in a woolen teal blanket that they all recognize, is a tired, but extremely proud looking Felix Fraldarius staring directly at the newcomers.

“I told you he could do it!”

----

5.       Sylvain has given Felix all the pieces of his fragile, fractured heart, even if he isn’t aware he possesses it.

Although once his greatest secret, Ignatz no longer hides his passion for art from his fellow Resistance Army members.

It’s not uncommon these days for people to find him at random places in the monastery with his art supplies sketching away at preserving a moment in time on blank paper forevermore.

Today, he is sitting on a bench next to a large oak tree, just a stone’s throw away from the main grounds. Beneath the shade and tucked between two large roots lie Sylvain and Felix, both completely tuckered out from their earlier attempts at climbing the towering tree. Sylvain is starfished on the ground with his arms stretched wide; to his left, Felix lays curled away from him with his head pillowed on the outstretched limb.

Sylvain and Felix have been the talk of the monastery for the past week and it is pretty obvious why. It’s not every day that you see two high ranking generals revert back to their child forms. Especially the most notorious bother-me-and-I’ll-bite-your-head-off and if-it-breathes-I’ll-flirt-with-it Generals to boot.

Of course, stories of their shenanigans and troublemaking usually fill the daily meal conversations, but there is one topic that floats above all else; the one that makes the maids in the kitchen giggle and even the burliest of knights crack a smile:

It is clear that even from a young age, Sylvain Jose Gautier and Felix Hugo Fraldarius are absolutely smitten with each other.

The two are inseparable and Ignatz is pretty sure that even a blind man would be able to see the absolute trust and unspoken devotion they have towards each other.

Ignatz has spent the day watching Felix and Sylvain, not just because it’s his turn to babysit, but also because he is fascinated with their bond. He had once thought that the Goddess was the most beautiful thing in the world, but the rawness and purity of their relationship fills him with more piety and awe than any portrait or statue of Sothis ever did.

It is like they are two parts of a well-oiled machine. Where one gives way, the other will step in to fill the gap; whenever Sylvain’s insecurities flare up, Felix is always there to chase the demons away with clumsy words and a physical display of affection, using his own body to ground his best friend and keep him close. Likewise, whenever tears well up in the youngest Fraldarius’ eyes (which is unfortunately quite often), Sylvain is there to wipe away the salty tracks and light up Felix’s heart with a smile warmer and brighter than sunshine.

Ignatz’s original plans were to draw the oak tree and the beautiful meadow of primrose flowers, but it seems that there will be a last minute change in muse.

Taking up his piece of charcoal, he begins the outline of what he thinks will be his fondest work to date.

Ignatz doesn’t know how long he spends sitting on that bench hunched over his sketchbook in silence with only the occasional birdsong floating through the silence. It’s so calm and peaceful that he doesn’t even notice that Sylvain has begun to stir until he looks up to find one of his subjects in a different position.

Leonie had warned him that Sylvain has a tendency towards nightmares. She had discovered that unfortunate fact in the first three days when each time she tip-toed into their room to check up on them, she found Sylvain wide awake with wild terror in his eyes and a sleepy Felix clinging to him comfortingly.

Strangely enough, Sylvain also does not startle awake from his nightmares. Instead, he slowly rouses himself as if from a deep sleep and if it weren’t for the glaze of lingering fear in his eyes, none would be able to tell that he had just woken up from a night terror.

That same glazed look is now flickering rapidly around him as if searching for the shadow of a monster that exists only within his mind.

“Sylvain…?”

Wild brown eyes finally settle on steady molten amber ones.

“Fe.”

“It’s okay, Sylvain. I’m here...”

Felix yawns and shuffles around until he is half wrapped around Sylvain with his left hand settling over Sylvain’s pounding heart.

“I won’t let anyone hurt you…” Small hands curl around the material of Sylvain’s shirt in a death grip. Felix’s loyalty and protectiveness so painfully evident even when the boy himself is half asleep. He manages to cling to the realm of the conscious for a little while longer, until the rapid thump thump thump of Sylvain’s heart slows to a steady lulling rhythm, pulling Felix back down under the veil of sleep.

Ignatz has silently watched this entire exchange and to be honest, he’s not really sure that Sylvain or Felix even remember that he is here with them. He cannot bring himself to make his presence known, so he continues to watch and observe.

He watches as the fear that was once in Sylvain’s eyes slowly recede again, the monsters inside his head vanquished in the company of his best friend. It only takes one more glance at the boy cuddled up to him with a hand protectively hovered over his heart to melt away the chains that bind him to the expectations of the people around him.

Here under this oak tree in a field of blooming young love, there is no crest or Miklan or nobility. There is only Felix and Sylvain.

Sylvain holds onto that truth as he wraps his free arm around the younger boy, tucking him more securely under his chin, letting the cool summer breeze lull him back to a dreamless sleep.

Ignatz pulls out a new page and starts a fresh outline. It takes him a little longer than anticipated to finish his drawing, but he figures it’s not such a bad thing since he likes this new version much better.

Later, as he trails after the now energetic boys back towards the monastery, Ignatz tucks his newest masterpiece securely under his arm, being very careful not to smudge the drawing or crease the paper.

After all, Claude did mention something about a wedding and Ignatz thinks that his drawing will make a fine gift.

----

Bonus: They’re just two idiots in love.

“Go away. Can’t you see I’m trying to enjoy my meal?”

“Aww, don’t be like that, Felix! You know, the younger you was much cuter. Definitely less prickly, too.” Dorothea pokes his cheek and snatches her hand away before Felix can stab it with his steak knife.

It’s been roughly a week since Felix and Sylvain have returned to their normal sizes, the dark magic having run its course and fizzling out without so much as a final spark. To the rest of the Army, this is a joyous occasion as it means that two of their best generals are now back to normal and can command them again. But to the last class of the academy… it is bittersweet.

Of course, they want their friends to return to normal. But that also means that Felix will go back to hissing and spitting with all the fury of a spooked cat and Sylvain will go back to seducing any individual that makes eye contact with him for longer than half a second.

“Better do as he says, Thea. Felix’s looking extra grumpy today and we wouldn’t want you to lose a pretty little finger.” Sylvain winks at her as he sets down his own meal and settles in the seat across from the swordsman.

The opera singer snorts, “right back to the flirting as usual. Save your hollow words for some other girl.”

“Ouch. Give a guy a break! I just recovered from a dark magic spell after all. Doesn’t that warrant some pity?”

“The only pity is that you immediately lost all your innocent and cute appeal when you reverted back to your regular body.”

Felix scowls at them, “if you insist on continuing your flirting, I’ll just eat my meal elsewhere.” He moves to stand but Sylvain is quicker and grabs his wrist, preventing him from moving.

“I’m sorry. I’ll stop. Just stay, okay? Please? For me, Fe?”

Sylvain is looking at Felix with that expression which he knows he cannot resist and Dorothea takes this opportunity to slip away while the two engage in a silent conversation with only their eyes.

“Fine.”

Their meal continues with little fanfare and easy conversation. Around them, their old classmates are scattered in their own little groups and if they notice, none of them mentions anything about how everyone seems to avoid sitting at Felix and Sylvain’s table.

Easy conversation flows into dessert, or more specifically: Felix wordlessly giving Sylvain his peach sorbet and Sylvain beaming a rare genuine smile and promising to join him at the training grounds first thing tomorrow morning.

The sun is slowly dipping below the horizon when Sylvain and Felix gather up their dishes. On their way out of the dining hall, Ignatz stops them with a heartfelt congratulations and a bundled up package that looks suspiciously like one of his works.

“Congratulations? For what?” Artfully tousled red hair shifts as Sylvain tilts his head in confusion and reluctantly accepts the gift.

“O-oh, well Claude just said…”

Dread rises up from the pit of Felix’s stomach. “What did that schemer say this time?”

“…He said that you two were getting married.”

“What?!”

[angelicspaceprince]

Addiction (Alt: Smooch Me On The Goddamn Mouf Hax)

Author: Ama

Title: Addiction (Alt: Smooch Me On The Goddamn Mouf Hax)

Pairing: Scarabee/Reader, Ciarog/Reader, Escarabajo/Reader, Scarafaggio/Reader, Zhuk/Reader

Character/s: Scarabee, Ciarog, Escarabajo, Scarafaggio, Zhuk,

Word Count: 4, 107 words

Warnings: NSFW, a lot of eating out, smexy times, 18+ only please.

Tags: @imma-fucking-nerd, @im-eating-rn@im-eating-rn

Prompt: Beetlejuice thought the most beautiful sound in the universe was the sound of screaming. You are here to prove him wrong of that notion.

Notes: So, for those who don’t know, there is a discord group and we’ve come up with 5 different dons for Mafia AU Beetlejuice. Something was brought up about one of them being caught eating the reader out and being punished for it or something to that degree and I promised @realmonsterboyhours that I’d write a crackfic on it. Here it is. Enjoy. Also, thanks to @monsterlovinghours for helping me with Cia, check that blog out for more info on the boys as Linds has posted about all of them, including what they look like, personalities etc.

Buy Me a Coffee

Addiction (Alt: Smooch Me On The Goddamn Mouf Hax)

To say that Bajo had an oral fixation was, if anything, a massive understatement. The few times he licked your face, you figured that was weird. But when he finally got to your legs and spent hours marking up your thighs before even touching what laid between them? It was official. Boy has a leg kink and loved to use that blasted tongue of his.

Shortly after the two of you started banging, he developed a bit of a…. habit. You lost the need for an alarm clock because every morning when you decided to sleep in his bed or alone in yours, you’d wake up to the demon between your legs, drinking at your slick as you ride out your orgasm. Then he’d pull away, proudly tell you how many times you came in your sleep, before moving back in to finish what he claimed to be his breakfast.

At first, it only happened if you were alone or if you slept in his room. You knew it was a one-way ticket to being woken up in the best way possible. But, you had to give your other boys some loving too.

You didn’t think Bajo would actually attempt to sneak in, you figured he’d leave you alone to the others so then everyone got a share of time with you. Evidently, you were wrong.

You were confused when you woke up, your body felt hot and muscles relaxed, heat radiating from your belly as you come to realise someone was making a home between your legs. It throws you in a loop because you can still feel Bee next to you, not stirring, not yet, and yet there was a tongue lapping away at your juices as your body continues to shudder its way through its orgasm.

“3.” You hear a voice say with a snicker before the telltale sign of hands tracing nails up your thighs as his tongue slides up to start to pay more attention to your clit.

Bajo rolls out of the bed with a loud oof, hitting the floor hard as Bee’s leg seemingly comes out of nowhere and kicks him in the ribs. “Laissez la dame dormir ou je vous arracherai les membres.” Came his threat, voice still laden with sleep but commanding nonetheless as he pulls you in close.

“Oh, come on amigo, no es como si ella se estuviera quejando.” Bajo retorts as he moves to stand and make his way back to his position with your thighs wrapped around his head. Before he could even fully stand, he was tackled to the ground and pounced on by five of Bee’s shadows.

“I never said ya weren’t invited to watch, amigo. Settle d- Oi!” He tries to kick at the shadow trying to get a kick at his balls, failing when another catches his leg and manages to hold it still. “Alright, alright, get your damn shadows off me!” Bee merely hums to respond as he moves to press a small kiss at the base of your neck, keeping you press flushed against him.

“Good morning, cherie.”

“Morning. You gonna let him up?”

“No, I don’t think I will.” You look up at him, his eyes glowing with mischief.

“C’mon love. It’s too early for this. Plus I wanna sleep a lil more with you. I can’t do that with that in the background.” You point to indicate the continuous protests coming from the man on the floor, now being held on his stomach with his hands on his back as the shadows take shots at his ribs. Bee rolls his eyes and waves his hand to dismiss the shadows, anything for you.

“Ah, thanks for that!” He stands up and stretches. “Think I could have another taste, mi amor?”

“Get out Bajo!” The both of you shout, pointing to the door in sync.

~~~

You were certain that Zhuk was too intimidating a figure for Bajo to actually attempt to come in his room. But then again, Bajo was an idiot and would try anything if it meant time to have a taste of you.

This time, however, you didn’t wake up to pleasure. You woke up to pain. With a loud gasp as you feel your thigh erupt in a painful heat, you sit up just in time to see your small black cat who always slept with Zhuk no matter what anyone said dart off into the corner. You rip back the covers to see a very guilty looking Bajo staring up at you, thumb rubbing over your now slightly bleeding thigh. His back is weeping small amounts of blood, by the looks of it, your kitty wasn’t too impressed at the weird bulge that had appeared between your legs overnight and wanted to make her discontent known. “Morning maripos-ah!” He shouts out in shock as Zhuk grabs him from the back of the neck and silently pulls him off the bed and towards the door, holding him so he is a few inches from the ground as he kicks and struggles. Zhuk opens the door and very unceremoniously throws the smaller man out, causing him to hit the wall and then the floor with two very loud bangs. “Oi! I barely even got to six this ti-” Zhuk slams the door in his face before moving back to crawl up the bed and next to you.

“Does it hurt, roza?” His large hand grabs at your knee to move your thigh so he can see the small wound, already beginning to heal up as he rubs at the reddened area, moving his hand to cover every new bruise Bajo had managed to create.

“No no, it’s fine now.” You move in to rest your head on his chest, already starting to fall back asleep. “Five more minutes?”

“Of course tsarina.”

~~~~~

You knew by now that it was going to happen, regardless of who you spent the night with. Granted, he gave you time to allow your legs to heal after the last incident, mostly out of fear of what Zhuk and Bee would do to him if he didn’t. But, eventually, your legs healed up and you were able to sit properly again. Which meant Bajo felt like he had a free invitation to his favourite snack.

When you woke up, you feel warm and fuzzy, muscles relaxed with your pussy clenching. Your thighs are wet to your knees and your entire body just feels hot. You could hear the telltale sign of Gio using his cane, smacking down on someone who was clearly protesting his attack as he rants in angry Italian. “Idiota! Non puoi farmi passare una notte con la nostra ragazza, no, devi entrare e rovinarlo! Merda stupida per il cervello! Ha appena guarito! Il tuo pasto preferito, ti batterò nel giro di un centimetro della tua vita.” You turn to see a very angry Gio beating a dishevelled but clearly pleased Bajo, mouth and jaw covered in your slick as he makes a show of cleaning his mouth and fingers between each wack.

“Amigo, you’re just jealous I got our lovely little mariposa to orgasm on my tongue five times before you realised what was happening.” You roll your eyes as Gio starts his assault again.

“Gio? Baby?” You ask, purposefully making your voice small so both boys turn around instantly to look at you. “Come back to bed?”

Gio softens instantly. “Piccola, I will I’m jus-”

“Please?” You whine out. “Want cuddles with you baby.” You reach out your arms and start making a grabby motion with your hands. “Come cuddle with me, please?”

Gio seems to falter before dropping his cane and moving back to the bed, you scooting backwards so he has room to join you, his arms wrapping around you until he can trace light patterns on your back, your head resting on his chest with a small, content smile. None of them could really turn you down for anything and, in times like this, it really did work to your advantage.

“Think you can move on over there?” Bajo asks, standing at the edge of the bed, clearly keen to join in the cuddle session. You can practically feel Gio heat up with anger at this.

“Esci! Stupido, pomposo, stupido, figlio di puttana-” He shouts, causing Bajo to leave with a snicker before Gio changes his mind and continues to give him a caning.

~~~~~

By now, you knew nowhere was safe. You knew you’d wake up with the Spaniard between your legs no matter where you slept in the house. But, you figured, that if you slept with one of the others that you were protected from at least being over stimmed so early in the morning, to the point that you would rather spend the rest of the day in bed rather than leave your room.

Cia had pointed out that you had yet to share a bed with him, and he was right to a degree. The few times you fell asleep in the Irishman’s room, both of you had been drunk and he had quite literally kicked you out of bed, leading you to walk back into your room to sleep the alcohol off. Still. The two of you weren’t really drinking tonight. And perhaps Cia would be better at protecting you from your nightly visitor.

You woke up with a gasp, eyes instantly locking with a pair of mischievous hazel ones, a fire lit in them. You barely get out a grunt as you feel your thighs shake around the head of the man currently rubbing two of his fingers against your g-spot, tongue assaulting your clit as you continue to come loudly, eyes rolling in the back of your head. You feel slightly warmed metal teeth brush against your thighs as he pulls back to nibble at your flesh, damp with your slick as you pant, turning over to Cia. “You’re not going to stop him?”

Something flashes in his eyes. “And miss the show? Mo grá, you don’t know me very well, do you?” The smile he sends your way causes a shiver down your spine as you feel Bajo chuckle lightly against your skin, your head snapping down when you feel him move to bite and suck another mark onto your thigh, Cia’s hand grasping onto your chin and pulling it face him. “Ag dul chun bheith ina cailín maith dúinn, piscín?” You whimper as you feel the man beneath you slowly slide back up to run the flat of his tongue up the length of your pussy, groaning lowly at the taste.

“Ci-ah!” You grind up against Bajo’s face as his lips wrap around your clit and he starts to draw powerful sucks, causing your whole body to wrack as the already over-sensitive organ starts to take another beating. “How- How many?” You barely get out as Cia coos.

“Eight.” You hear Bajo say against your cunt, the vibrations making your eyes squeeze shut as you roll your hips. Towards him or away from him you aren’t entirely sure, but you do whine in protest when he pulls back, resting his chin on your thigh as he looks up at you with a wicked grin. “Creo que esta mañana es el día en que llegamos a los veinte. ¿Qué te parece mi amigo?” 

“20? I’m sure we can aim for more than that, can’t we?” You whimper at the number, shaking your head as Bajo moves back to push his tongue inside of you, wanting to have a taste of you straight from the source. “Hush, mo ghrá. Lig do Bajo aire a thabhairt duit anois.” Cia chastises as your head rolls towards him.

You move to protest. “Too many.” You say quietly. There is no way, on this progressively not to green earth, that you would be able to come twenty times at the hands of these two and survive. “Ple-ugh.” You gasp when you feel a sharp pinch at your nipples, Cia clearly not too impressed with your protest.

“Oh, don’t fight it now, lie back against me love.” He instructs, bringing you closer to him as you let out a small whimper, much to his amusement. “A piscín, an é go léir atá agat dúinn? Tar ar aghaidh anois, tá mé cinnte gur féidir leat a bheith níos airde ná sin.” Your cries become louder as Bajo’s thumb moves to stroke at your clit, fingers replacing his tongue as he massages at your g-spot, causing you to buck and whine.

“Oh, nuestro pequeño pájaro cantor. Cantas tan bellamente para nosotros.” You feel his metal teeth bite down on your thigh again, this time piercing your flesh as small droplets of red chase their way down to the bed, eyes squeezing shut as you try to focus on every single sensation.

“Keep those eyes open, darlin',” Cia reminds you. Your eyes snap back open obediently, “look at the way he's making your thighs tremble. Does it feel good, hm?” You turn to look down, eyes locking with Bajo’s as he just grins up at you, hand moving so his fingers pump slowly in and out as he continues to suck at the skin of your shaking thigh.

“I- uh. Feels. Hnn.” You give up on words, hips moving to roll in time with the movement of his fingers.

“It must, you can barely string two words together.” Cia comments in amusement.

“Can’t think.” You tell them, and it's true. The fog of your early morning haze has mixed with the fog of coming too many times, being brought back to that edge and Cia whispering in your ear was completely taking over all other functions. You couldn’t think, could barely string your words together, barely remember every word you hear the boys say to you, all that was left was to feel which just made you all that much foggier.

“Shh, pequeña. No pienses, solo siente.” Bajo says from beneath you.

“Falling.” You say with a gasp, hands moving to grasp at the bedsheets as your brain finally succumbed to the fog.

“Eso es, enamórate de nosotros, pequeño amor. No te preocupes Te atraparemos.” You whine as his thumb is removed from your clit, only to be replaced by his mouth, tongue flicking in between strong sucks.

You try to bite back your sounds, the last little bit of you wanting to fight back resorting to ‘you don’t deserve to hear how good you make me feel’ but you fail miserably as Cia’s hand starts to trace up and down your body, pinching at you to keep you on your toes, mind so distracted from everything you’re feeling, you almost miss what’s being said.

“-so soft, so sweet. Oh, leanbh, we might just make a meal of you yet.” Cia purrs in your ear, chuckling lowly when you whine loudly, hips bucking up into Bajo’s mouth. “Would you like that? To be feasted on?” His grin widens as you nod furiously, a strangled version of both their names passing through your lips between heavy breaths as you feel your body tense in anticipation for number nine, Bajo groaning when he realises you’re close again as he seems to start attacking your clit with more vigour, trying to bring you over the edge once more. Cia leans in closer to continue, breath hot against your ear as his hands hold your hips down to stop you from grinding up against Bajo’s tongue. “Oh, look at you, mo stór. So desperate to come again. Oh, little one, we're so hungry for you, hungry for your pleasure. Give it to us. Give in to us. Let your body surrender, sweetheart, there you go.” He coos when you shudder around Bajo with a broken moan, body twitching as Cia moves to bite at your neck, the same time Bajo moves to place yet another bruise to your thigh. “Ó, beag ardaigh, conas is breá linn go bhfaigheann tú teacht slán.”

A few seconds pass before you feel Bajo’s tongue lapping away the excess slick, only this wasn’t a cleanup. No, he was very pointedly warming up to make you come again. You protest with a whine. “One more, pequeña?” Your eyes flicker down to his. “Just one more.” You can handle one more? Surely? You nod once and that’s all he needs to delve back into your heat with a loud noise of content when he has your taste on his tongue again.

It doesn’t take long. You were nine orgasms in and your body was tuned ready for ten. Cia is instantly at your ear, murmuring lowly in a mix of Gaelic and English, slowly coaxing you to the edge. But your body doesn’t seem to want to go over, get you to the double-digit tally that both the boys insist you reach this morning. Cia, for one, is not giving up without a fight. “Come for him, darlin', he wants you to. Can't you see it in his eyes, the way he's begging you to drown him with it?” When you look down, Bajo does indeed look desperate for you to come once more, eyes bright and burning as he moans against your sex, addicted to your taste as his tongue leaves your clit to delve into your wet heat, thumb moving up to take its place. You let out a small whine, eyes not leaving his for a second. “Give in, ailleacht, come for us. Let us carry you over the edge."

That’s all it takes to tip you over the edge, words purred in your ear as your body convulses, a scream leaves your lips as you ride out a near painful orgasm being ripped from your body. You can hear dark chuckles from next to your ear and between your thighs before Cia whispers lowly in your ear, “Sin é, ceann beag, scread dúinn.”

When you come down from your high, your entire body is shaking, you can feel Bajo press gentle kisses down your thighs as he lowers them from his shoulders before he slides up your body until he is hovering over you. To your horror, his face is positively dripping with your slick, his giant shit-eating grin showing you just how pleased he is of that fact. “Buenos dias mariposa.” He greets before moving down to kiss you fully on your lips, making you taste yourself on his tongue before he not-so-gracefully falls to your other side, bringing you in close as Cia follows, the same look on his face.

“Maidin, álainn.” He purrs. You snuggle into his chest, Bajo’s forehead pressed against the base of your neck as he curls around you.

“I hate you both.”

“No you don’t.”

You let out a huff of air in annoyance when, yet again, Cia was right. But only just. “I’m never sleeping in this room again.” They both laugh because, again, they both know it's not true. “I’m sleepy.”

“Go to sleep, querida.” Bajo murmurs against your skin, pressing a kiss wherever he can place them. You can hear them both say something to you, but it’s all muffled as you slowly drift back to sleep in their arms.

~~~~~

Choosing to sleep in Bajo’s bed was always an open invitation for him to spend the entire night with his face wrapped between your thighs. You always chose your nights with Bajo carefully because of that fact.

Tonight, you felt like you just needed to be with him. You had all gone out to dinner and it was a rare case where everything was just a disaster. Orders were wrong, food was cold or just gross, wine was corked, everything that could have gone did go wrong. Bajo was a bit sour as it was his choice of restaurant and it had clearly gone downhill since the last time he went there for a meal. So, to soothe his upset self, you changed plans of sharing a bed with Bee to spend the night with Bajo.

As you expected, you barely got through the doors before you were thrown on the bed, shirt and bra having been ripped off in the hallway, and he was crawling up between your thighs, pulling down your pants and panties in one smooth, quick motion. You move your thighs to rest on his shoulders as he glides his tongue down your calf, over your knee, down your inner thigh before moving to lick a stripe up your pussy, groaning at the taste. “Finally.” He says, eyes flickering up to look at you. “Some good fucking food.”

That was it. You instantly unwrap yourself from him and move to the side, holding your sides as you laugh. “Nope. Sex is off. You did not just say that.” You can practically feel his pout as he slides up the bed to press his hands into the mattress, one either side of your head as he waits for the giggles to subside, eyes warm as he watches your amused face with a smile before moving in to kiss you deeply.

“Let me have my dinner?” He asks when he pulls back, causing you to giggle again.

“I can’t take you seriously now, Bajo.” You shake your head. “If you’re lucky, you can have me for breakfast again.” He hrumphs as he moves to lay next to you on the bed, pulling you close so his entire body is pressed up against you.

“Te amo, mi pequeña mariposa.” He says quietly against your skin.

“I love you too, you dumb fucking himbo.” You tease, laughing when he growls and bites down on your shoulder as a warning. Damn, this boy be feral and bitey.

The next morning, you weren’t surprised at all to feel him slide down your body, sending a wink your way when he notices you’re up as he positions himself, ready to absolutely devour you.

Misc Scene That Didn’t Quite Make It:

The first time Bajo went down on you, it was like a religious experience. It was a lazy Sunday with just the two of you in the smoking room when he got a glint in his eye and slowly slid out from under you and between your thighs. At first, you thought he was just going to mark you up a little again, his favourite place to be when the six of you snuggling is, after all, on top of your thighs and you never left without a minimum of six bite marks. But, it wasn’t until he was pulling away your panties with his teeth did you realise his end game.

You are certain he spent hours with his mouth glued to your pussy, as if he was trying to print the taste into his memory and sear the spots that made you cry out into his brain. He brought you to the edge over and over, pulling back when he felt you were close to watch you squirm and glare at him, nipping at your thighs whenever you protest.

When he finally let you come, you swear you saw stars. Your body arches as you scream, mostly in relief, hand having been weaved in his hair for at least an hour and a half by now pulling at his roots as it clenches, hips moving up to rock against his face as he drinks in everything you have to offer him. Your body finally laxes into the leather seat beneath you as you try to catch your breath when Bajo’s lips are suddenly against yours, hands-on your spread knees as his tongue works its way into your mouth so you can taste yourself mixed with him. When he pulls back, you can’t help it.

Slowly, you raise your hands to clap causing him to chuckle. “Wow.” 

He does a few small bows from his place on his knees between your legs. “Thank you, thank you! I’d like to think of myself as a humble man- ow!” He swats your hand away as you smack him across the back of the head with a laugh.

“You’re such a twit.”

“You love me.”

“Do I though?”

“Yes.” You roll your eyes at his cocky answer. “So…. did you enjoy yourself up there, dulce?” He asks with a grin.

“No Bajo, I had an awful time.” You sass causing him to laugh as he moves to nip at your thigh again as a playful warning. “Any chance for an encore?” You ask cheekily as his eyes flash, a giant smirk appearing on his face.

“For you? Of course, mi amor.”

[theatresweetheart]

Desperate Measures [ 5 ]

Fandoms: Sanders Sides, G/t

Warnings: Swearing, fear, feelings of doubt/insecurity, talk of main character being treated poorly.

Pairings: Romantic/Parental Logicality, Platonic Logince, Platonic TLAMP

Word Count:  1435 words

Taglist: @isle-of-gold @anonymous-bean @sandersships @kaytikitty  @picklesandbeyond @minty4green

Chapter Navigation: Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Chapter 6

                                   +~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+

“Now, now, Roman,” the second voice piped up, “I’m sure they were fine. You never know what they could be going through.”

“Alright, alright,” the human—Roman—replied.

The smaller voice paused for a moment. “Is he alright?”

“He’s fine,” the human promised the second voice, a quiet reassurance. His voice then softened a tad more. “But you’re going to have to be gentler with this one. He seems to be…easily provoked.”

Easily provoked, Logan sneered inwardly, what did he know about being easily provoked?

The second voice laughed a bit gentler. “It’ll be fine. This isn’t the first time, you know.”

“Yes, I know.”

The box suddenly began to tilt and the second voice hissed quickly.

“Easy!” He said, “warn him, Roman, you know how important it is for him to feel safe and listened to.”

Roman sucked in a sharp breath. “Right. Sorry. Sort of slipped my mind,” he mused quietly, then raised his tone a bit more to show Logan that he was indeed talking to him. “Hey, I’m gonna tilt the box to make this interaction easier, alright?”

Logan only gave an annoyed huff in response, as he slid on the still, slightly tilted angles of the box.

It seemed his movements had been enough of a go-ahead and the box finished turning, before finally settling and staying situated where it was.

The two flaps on the top of the container—the front of it now as it was sitting sideways—began to crack open and light flooded into the darkness, causing the borrower to wince and lift a hand to block his eyes. As soon as he was used to it, he removed his hand and let it sit down on the cardboard.

When he looked up, Logan felt his stomach drop.

He was not looking back into a pair of large brown eyes like he thought he would, but was instead focused on the form of another borrower. He almost didn’t know what to do or what to say, his mind was racing a mile a minute and when the other took a step forwards, Logan matched it with a step backwards.

The other paused, seeing the flight taking over Logan’s features. The fight had been washed behind for a moment.

“Hey, it’s okay,” the other borrower promised, lowering himself into a crouch to stay on the same level as him. “I know this probably seems really weird, huh?”

Nodding wordlessly, Logan’s eyes searched over the newcomer’s form. “You could say that.”

Weird seems like an understatement.

This wasn’t exactly how he thought this entire thing would be going. Logan had been so confident that this was the end of the line, but here he was, facing another of his kind who seemed to be relatively unhurt. At least, from what he could see. The silhouette of the other could be hiding bruises that would remain unseen until he got closer.

“What’s the meaning of this?” He finally spoke up, unable to handle the silence any longer. “What on earth are you waiting for?”

“For you to be a little less defensive, first of all,” he heard Roman’s voice rumble from above, but the human remained out of his sight-line.

The other borrower raised a hand and quickly managed to silence the larger being and Logan was floored yet again. The human was listening to someone his size? What sort of hell was this? What had he been brought into?

“This probably seems really untrustworthy,” the other said again, getting a nod in response from the bespectacled male. “A borrower and a human? Hard to believe, I get that. But you’re going to have to trust me for a little bit, at least long enough to help you get home.”

Logan almost stammered for words at that. “You’re— you’re not being kept here against your will?”

“Heaven’s no,” the other replied, a grin crossing over his features. He adjusted himself so he was sitting comfortably and allowing Logan to relax as well. Creating a more inviting environment would make it easier for conversation to ensue. Thomas knew what it was like to be on the receiving end of humans in all of their terrifying glory, so he knew how to handle the other’s frightened behaviour. “I’ve been allowed to come and go as I please, but Roman has been a rather gracious host.”

“I’d say so,” the human countered, but in a more playful tone than anything else. “I get why you’re so defensive though.”

“Oh you do?” Logan raised his voice a bit more, prompting the other to speak again.

“You’ve been stuck in a cage for God knows how long, no wonder you’re sick of human interaction,” Roman continued. “Look, you can believe me or not, but the both of us really do want to help you get home.”

“So, maybe we can start this by you coming out,” the other borrower pushed himself into a stand, catching Logan’s attention once more. “No one is going to touch you or grab you without your permission, I promise.”

He watched as the other even backed up a couple paces, looking earnest but genuine and as much as Logan hated this situation, he hated the box more.

With a huff, he drew himself into a stand as well and slowly made his way toward the opening of the box. It wasn’t comfortable, not really, knowing that there was someone constantly watching him, but there wasn’t much he could do to change that. So, he pressed on.

While it did take an extra moment to steel his nerves, it wasn’t long before Logan ducked under the open flap of the confinement and onto the smooth texture of the kitchen table.

It had been a while since he hadn’t been surrounded by something. Taking in another breath, it almost felt better in a way. It was like a fresh moment of finally being in the most freedom he had had since he was caught. While the freedom was emotional, he wasn’t going to allow himself to revel in it. Not until he was with the people that mattered the most.

Thomas grinned a bit more, a softer light in his eyes and Logan felt oddly reassured. “See? It’s not so bad out here, is it?”

“I suppose not,” he adjusted his glasses before crossing his arms over his chest. His eyes flickered between both the human and the other before shifting anxiously back and forth between his feet. “I must admit, while I had my suspicions, you seem fairly…genuine.” Roman seemed to nearly preen at the information. “But that does not excuse the fact that I was still bought.”

“It wasn’t as if I was doing it to keep you,” the explanation came hastily afterwards, “all of it was just an act to get you out of there.”

“And while I appreciate that, a little forewarning would have been appreciated so I didn’t need to be fearing for my life on the drive here.”

Roman frowned lightly. “You were fearing for your life?”

Once he heard it coming from another source, Logan dropped his gaze, nearly feeling unsure at this point. It sounded fairly pathetic now that it had been said aloud.

“Well, what did you really expect of me? I’ve been treated like nothing more than a toy by countless other humans and I have come to lose my faith in humanity altogether.” He snipped, before taking a breath to steady himself. “I have been away from my family for nearly six months at this point and I have no inkling whatsoever to how they may be currently faring.”

The surprised expressions on the others features did nothing to phase him. Nor was he going to console them.

“Though, it seems I may have overestimated and been wrong by the accusation—only because you and your…friend,” he motioned to the borrower that stood a few paces away from him—although, saying ‘friend’ when referring to another borrower and a human was odd and somewhat grounding in a way—and he kept his hands tucked into a folded position, “have been pleasant enough to offer your assistance. Not many people would do that and that— does mean a lot.”

“Thank you,” the human said after a moment, “I think.”

“Yes, it was a compliment,” Logan agreed after a hesitant moment, because complimenting one of the members of the human race just felt wrong to him. It felt as if there should be no congratulating of the kind. He had only gone through Hell and back and here he was, standing in the presence of a human and his borrower companion.

[superpuppies]

Hobbit High

Chapter 5: The Plan Fandom- The Hobbit

Characters- Ori X Dwalin, Bilbo X Thorin, Fili, Kili, Dori, Nori, Gandalf, Thlandral, Legolas

Rating- PG13

Word count-2534

Archive Link- https://archiveofourown.org/works/10027448/chapters/57583291#workskin

Summary- Nori, Dwalin and Thorin come up with a plan of attack for the next day at school.

Hey all, here’s the newest from my mind, please keep in mind that I do have dyslexia and I really do try to fix all spelling mistakes but some will always slip through. If you spot some please let me know and I will do my best to correct it. Thank you.

Nori walked back into the kitchen as Thorin hung up with his father. “I found Dwalin.” He announced dropping into a seat.

“Oh? Where was the pansy hiding?” Thorin chuckled. He had been a bit surprised when his friend had run off but looking back over the day as he had talked to his dad, he was also a bit surprised by a few things he had done.

“He was upstairs assaulting my brother.” Nori sighed.

“What?” Thorin half laughed half yelped.

“I hardly think that counts as assault.” Dwalin said as he walked in pulling off his wet shirt.

“If it’s not assault, then why are you stripping?” Thorin asked.

“What does one have to do with the other? And my shirt got wet from the shower you weirdo.” Dwalin flung his wet shirt in Thorin’s face as he sat down beside Nori. “So, what are you telling Dori?”

“No idea.” Nori leaned back in his chair. “Leave me in charge, because that’s a great plan Dori. In just under three days Ori can get the crap beat out of him and possibly raped by my best friend. Great plan Dori, great plan!” Dwalin punched Nori hard in the shoulder.

“Asshole, you could tell him the truth.” Dwalin grumbled playfully.

“Are you insane, he would be back here within the hour!” Thorin cut across the table. Nori just raised his eyebrows and pointed at Thorin in a ‘that’ gesture. Dwalin waved them off and continued.

“No, when does the conference end?”

“Tomorrow at like five.” Nori eyed Dwalin suspiciously.

“Right, so Bilbo and Ori aren’t seriously injured no broken bones or anything. Black and blue, sure and a little shaken but that’s it, they’re fine.” Thorin and Nori nodded. “Besides you come home beat to shit all the damn time. So we patch them up, they go to school tomorrow, they come home and he’ll be back at what seven, he can look at them then.”

“hmm, that could work.” Nori started.

“Wait, what about school tomorrow?” Thorin added. “They have classes with Fili and Kili.”

“Shit!” Nori growled.

“Are they actually stupid enough to start something in class?” Dwalin asked.

“I can certainly hope not, but there are times when they aren’t actually in class.” Thorin countered.

“We will walk them around. Ori and Bilbo won’t enter or exit a classroom without at least one of us.” Dwalin smirked triumphant.

“What about lunch?” Thorin asked with a deadpan stare.

“It’s a free period anyway and we always go pester them why would tomorrow be any different.” Nori smirked he was very much liking this plan any reason to stalk his little brother was a good thing.

“Since when is Biology a free period?” Thorin asked while Dwalin cocked an eyebrow at Nori.

“Since tomorrow.” Nori huffed. “Alright so that’s the plan. We all in agreement on this?”

“Yeah,” Thorin nodded. So Nori looked to Dwalin who just looked right back at him.

“No, I am not going to agree to my own plan.” Dwalin said flatly.

“Well that is just ridiculous; you need to have more faith in yourself man.” Nori shook his head and the three friends laughed.

 Bilbo found Ori sitting on his bed in a loose sleep shirt and flannel pants. “Are you all right?” Bilbo asked sitting next to Ori.

“Yeah… he asked me to be his boyfriend.”

“See and you were too scared to say anything all this time.” Bilbo smirked.

Ori’s lips twitched into a quick nervous smile. “I didn’t agree to or anything.”

“What!? Why not?”

“Nori came in and kind of kill the conversation just as it was starting, then Dwalin followed after him laughing. And now I don’t know. I mean what if he was just joking or something or he wanted to get a little revenge of his own and Nori just kind of got in the way.”

“No,” Bilbo put a hand on Ori’s arm. “I think it was sincere. After you stormed away from Nori,” Ori’s shoulders sank. “which was fine don’t worry about it. Even Thorin told him off about it a little and it came out that Dwalin had liked you for over a year,” Bilbo leaned closer to Ori conspiratorially, “and Nori knew about it.” Ori shot a quick glance at Bilbo. “then Nori and Thorin where poking fun at Dwalin for not saying anything to you. Finally, I asked him if he had said anything to you yet, you know just to be sure, because if he had and you had been acting this way, I was going to have to punch you.”

“Good to know who my friends are.” Ori drawled.

“I am your friend; I want you to be happy. So yes, I think when he asked you to be his boyfriend, he was sincere, and you should definitely do it.” The two boys chuckled, Ori nodding that he would.

Ori looked over at Bilbo and was hit with a sudden wave of guilt. “AAh, I’m sorry Bilbo.”

“What? You’re confusing me now.”

“I’m sorry” Ori turned to Bilbo. “I’m sorry I ran out of the room before, for leaving you there alone. I shouldn’t have, panic just kind of set in and I bolted without thinking. I’m sorry.”

Bilbo smiled and looked down at the rug. “I can’t say I really blame you or that I’m really all that upset by it. I mean I probably would have done that same thing if I had thought of it and it turned out alright.” Bilbo glanced up at Ori. “I mean sure physically I feel like crap, but now you’re dating Dwalin and Thorin kissed me, so all in all the day was a pretty good one.”

“Thorin kissed you!” Ori’s eyes lit up with excitement as he smiled at his friend.

“Yeah.” Bilbo smiled at the thought of it. “Just after you left. I think the first time was just to get me to shut up, but after that…”

“The first time? How many times did he kiss you?”

“I don’t know, at least three or four.” Bilbo blushed as Ori fell back onto his bed with a sigh. “What? Don’t tell me he hasn’t.”

“No, he has but you know just the once.”

“Oh.” Bilbo fell back next to his friend. “Well you’re dating now so that’ll change.” Bilbo shrugged. “Do you have a better shirt I can wear?” Bilbo plucked at the way too large one he currently had on with a dejected sigh. Ori glanced at Bilbo sideways and realized he had one of Dori’s sleep shirts on, so he rolled off his bed groaning as he applied pressure to his bruise.

“Yeah I think so.”

 “Oh it’s got to be close to two fifty by now.” Nori said as he pushed the stir-fry around the pan.

“Really? How long have they been writing them?” Thorin asked stretching himself across the table top.

“Well, I found them maybe a year ago and he already had a good stash. And I caught Bilbo bringing more over six or seven months ago.”

“They know you know about them? And they still hide them?” Dwalin chuckled.

“No, just Bilbo knows, well as far as I know.” Nori shrugged splashing some soy sauce into the stir-fry.

“Two fifty, what can they possibly write about two hundred and fifty times.” Thorin shook his head.

“Well they have all sorts of sub categories.” Nori tossed some of the vegetables into the pan. “There’s just you and Bilbo, just Ori and Dwalin, There are master slave scenarios.” Dwalin stood and walked over to the fridge to grab a soda. “Fantasy stuff, Syfy stuff, me and Ori, there’s Dori, me and Ori and Dori, Bilbo, Me and Ori,”

“Alright, stop, stop.” Dwalin put a hand over Nori’s mouth. Nori pulled away smirking.

“That’s not even the weirdest stuff but I’ll admit I have a hard time reading those.”

“You actually read them?” Thorin looked up at Nori confused.

“Oh, yeah. They’re pretty good, your boy’s got talent.”

“My boy?” Thorin rolled the words around in his mouth.

“Yeah, I only read what Bilbo has written, Bilbo’s got everything Ori writes.” Nori sprinkled some seasoning over the stir-fry.

“So where are they?” Dwalin asked sitting back down at the table. “Beside this one” Dwalin reached into his back pocket and dropped the story onto the table.

Nori raised an eye brow at the offending story of the day and smirked. “Why do you want to know?”

“Just curious as to what’s expected of me.” Dwalin rebuked.

“He’s afraid he’ll be a disappointment.” Thorin laughed, Dwalin smacked him across the back of the head. “See, I’m right.”

“I think you’ll be a slight change to what he was thinking.”

“Why?”

“He gives Bilbo back the stories he doesn’t like.” Nori huffed. “Apparently the most common complaint is that they don’t seem like they could really happen. But of the few that Bilbo has given me to read they seem pretty spot, on to me.”

“So you’ve also read the impossible ones?” Dwalin raised his eyebrows skeptically.

“Yep. The regular ones are kept in Binders marked ‘Algebra’ and ‘Argumentative Writing’. Well those are the best categories anyway, in his room.”

“Algebra?” Thorin laughed.

“Would you look there?” Dwalin smirked.

“It’s not a bad hiding spot but if anyone ever did just pick it up, it’s clearly not algebra.” Nori shrugged.

“No, but still.” Thorin answered Dwalin.

“Has Dori called yet?” Ori asked walking into the room with Bilbo. Thorin sat up as Dwalin dropped his feet off the tables edge.

“No not yet.” Nori answered. Ori’s cheeks tinted pink as he noticed Dwalin wasn’t wearing a shirt anymore; Dwalin saw the slight color change and smiled at Ori who then quickly turned back to his brother.

“So what are we going to tell him?”

“Don’t worry about it, I got it figured out.” Ori gave Nori an exasperated ‘Really’ look. “What? Sorry I ruined your and Dwalin’s little moment.” Nori flipped the contents of the pan.

“Whatever, just as long as it doesn’t have me being attacked by ravenous wolves again.” Ori grumbled turning toward the living room. “I’m going to watch some T.V.”

“Yeah, fine, you ass.” Ori ignored Nori’s remark as he walked into the living room and clicked on the T.V.

“Ravenous wolves?” Bilbo said cocking his head to the left.

“It was funny.” Nori shrugged, pulling down some plates.

“Somehow I doubt that.” Bilbo turned and walked into the living room.

“Explain.” Dwalin said coolly with a matching glare.

“Last time Dori was at one of these things, he called to say he was heading back and I told him that Ori had been attacked by wolves.” Nori shrugged with a smirk. “I swear he teleported back here, frantic.” The phone begins to ring, so Nori turns down the stove heat. “Only to find a perfectly fine Ori sitting in his room doing homework.” Nori flips the stir-fry and walks toward the handset. “Dori wouldn’t let go of him the entire time he was yelling at me.” Nori smirked answering the phone. “Hey Dori.”

Thorin smirked at the tale but stopped as he turned to Dwalin and watched him roll his eyes. “It’s kinda funny.” Thorin said standing.

“It’s stupid.” Dwalin grumbles walking into the living room.

“It’s what he does best.” Thorin chuckles, walking over to Bilbo, who is laying on the loveseat. “Scoot.” Thorin waves his hand at Bilbo who reluctantly shuffles to one side of the loveseat. Thorin drops down and pulls Bilbo over to rest against his shoulder.  Dwalin lifts Ori’s legs and drops down onto the sofa before replacing them across his lap. Ori shifted slightly to curl his legs under himself but Dwalin held them where they were. The four sat in a nervous, companionable silence flipping through the channels until they settled on the horror movie channel. Some made for TV movie was playing and they all laughed at the terrible acting and effects.

 Nori finally joined them and hour later with two cups of water in hand and a pill bottle under his arm. He handed Ori and Bilbo each a glass and then shook out two pills for each of them.  “Doctor’s orders.” Nori said walking back into the kitchen, Ori and Bilbo downed the pills without protest. Nori reappeared with plates of stir-fry for everyone and stretched himself out on the floor to catch the end of the movie while he ate.

Half way through the next movie Ori and Bilbo where nodding off. “Dwalin, think you can get him to bed?” Nori asked getting up. Dwalin just nodded ignoring the innuendo. “Good, I’ll take Bilbo and handsy over there for the night.”

Thorin stopped his hand from sliding any farther up Bilbo’s thigh. “For the night?”

“Yep, Dori says we got to watch them through the night, now let’s go handsy.”

“What? Why doesn’t Dwalin need a chaperon? He’s got your baby brother.”

“Cause Dwalin hasn’t been stupid enough to grope Ori for the past half hour in front of me. And I highly doubt he’ll do anything when he knows I could burst through the door at any moment.”

Dwalin looked over at Thorin smugly. “Idiot.” He then gently tugged on Ori’s arms to try and get him off the sofa.  Nori cleared the plates while Dwalin and Thorin began moving Ori and Bilbo about.

“Come on Ori, up ya get.” Dwalin managed to get Ori sitting but just barely.

“No, let me sleep here.” Ori mumbled falling back toward the cushions. Dwalin carefully wrapped his arms around Ori’s torso and began to lift.

“Nope, you’ll be sore enough in the morning already.” Dwalin said soothing but firm.

Ori grumbled but let himself be manhandled, offering absolutely no assistance in the endeavor. Dwalin sighed and glanced over at Nori and Thorin, they weren’t faring any better than he was and there were two of them. Dwalin almost wished he had Bilbo, Bilbo’s small stature and body build made him someone Dwalin could easily throw over his shoulder. Whereas Ori was only a head taller than Bilbo but with a slightly sturdier body build it didn’t seem like much but was just enough to make it difficult and uncomfortable. What with the difficulty Thorin and Nori where having just with Bilbo, Dwalin didn’t think they would ever get Ori up the stairs. Turning back to Ori he tugged the younger boy up to standing and this time Ori just fell against his chest instead of back onto the sofa. With careful, slow steps Dwalin began leading Ori to the stairs.

Thorin was grumbling at Nori who had finally just settled Bilbo on to his back piggy back style. “Well you could have but you didn’t, you just stood there bitching about it.” Nori half whispered over his shoulder at Thorin as he passed Dwalin.

“It was my idea.” Thorin growled quietly.

“Well good for you.” Nori spat out sarcastically.

Dwalin just rolled his eyes as he decided that they had all been friends for too long. They were starting to sound like an old married couple.

[henrietta-ocs]

Character: Spencer Prata Species: Hunter Age: 32 Gender: Male Pronouns: He/him Occupation: Hunter By: Caroline

Biography

tw: child abuse tw: death

3 months old. Spencer Prata was a quiet baby. He rarely cried, slept through the night from almost square one, and often looked at his parents as if he understood them already. The slight head tilt of his small quizzical look was often a source of amusement from his young parents, Sarah and Austin Prata. Despite their rocky start, Sarah and Austin were the perfect complement to each other. Austin was loud, brash, and Earth-shatteringly unapologetic; Sarah, soft-spoken, steady, and careful with her decisions. In spite of the reverent love the two shared, their relationship did not come without its problems. And nearly all of them were attributed to Austin.

5 years old. Spencer sat between his mother and father in his kindergarten classroom and he could almost feel his father’s blood boiling. Concerns about home life. Neglect. Abuse. Spencer’s eyes were glued to his feet – the Spiderman sneakers he’d been given at the start of last school year were not only fraying and being hung together by small strings but they were also more than a size too small. His big toe was poking out of his right – wait, was that his left? – shoe. 

He was unaware of his mother’s guiding hand as they stood, strategically pulling him to the opposite side of his father’s heavy footfalls. Before the classroom door had even closed, Austin was screaming. “Fucking bitch. Telling me how to live my own God damned life. Does she have any idea how much she owes me? How much they all fucking owe us –”

Sarah reached forward and slid her hand down Austin’s arm. “Honey, he’s crying.” And sure enough, hidden behind Sarah, young Spencer’s face was coated in fresh tears, though he was silent as he cried. “Please, just, not here…” A paraprofessional had opened the door to another classroom and was looking at the small family with judgement beyond compare.

Austin scowled, rolling his eyes as he came to a dead stop in the hallway, turning toward them both. “If he wants something to cry about, I can give him something to fucking cry about, Sarah.”

Spencer let out a hiccup of fear through his tears and Austin shifted to look down at him. “Wipe those damn tears away, boy. Don’t ever let them see you cry.”

Eleven years old. Spencer had stepped in before he even really knew what he was doing. His mother had been arguing with his father for over an hour now. He was tired of sitting in the bedroom with the door locked, comforting Izzy, who was so tired from crying that she’d actually fallen asleep on his lap. He’d unlocked the bedroom door, marched right up to his father, and taken a swing. Austin laughed as he ran his hand over his jaw slowly. “Boy, you best had meant to hit the wall there.”

“Leave her alone.” “Spencer, no, please. Go back with your sister.” “He can’t hit you and make you cry.” Spencer was facing his mother now, completely unaware of the extended backswing his father had taken. As soon as his father’s forearm connected with his chest, he went flying across the room. He landed on the coffee table, though the table barely budged. Spencer yelped in pain, though no tears fell. 

“Fuck off.”

Austin was laughing again as he closed the gap between him and his son. Not a good sign. “Big words from such a small piece of shit. Did your momma and I teach you to mind your own goddamn business?”

Spencer pushed himself up, teeth clenched, to stand, chest to his father’s stomach. “Fuck. Off.” Then, everything went black.

Fourteen years old. Resting his head on his left fist, Spencer was nearly asleep in the Principal’s office. His mother was sitting there, nodding along gently with the man speaking to her about his concerns. Apparently, his artwork was now concerning, on top of his lack of empathy for his classmates. To be fair, most of his classmates were useless sacks of skin. He’d found a crowd that he fit in with, though they were all children of hunters. Even Izzy had gotten herself in with the group already, which was miraculous as women weren’t always as readily accepted. It helped that she was over 5 years his younger. They protected her, looked out for her.

“Mrs. Prata, I’m sure I’m not the first person to voice concerns about Spencer’s…unique …”

“Why’s he pussyfooting around it? Just tell me I’m suspended and let me go.”

“Spencer! Language!” Sarah’s eyes were focused intently on her young son, her head tilted ever so slightly.

Spencer rolled his eyes and leaned back, sliding down in his seat.

“Mrs. Prata, Spencer is indeed suspended, three days. I am requiring a psychiatric evaluation prior to his return.”

“Don’t worry about it. I’ll just drop out and we can move again.” Spencer stood up, pushed a hand through his hair and looked down at his mom. “Come on. I’m sure dad will love to hear about this.” Hear about it and then beat the ever loving shit out of him. His black eye from last week hadn’t even started turning yellow yet.

Nineteen years old. Spencer and his family had moved so many times he’d lost count. He’d been three months from graduating high school when Austin had moved them clear across the country to Louisiana looking for what he was convinced was one of the last pockets of changelings in the continental United States. 

It was in the small town of Breaux Bridge, the crawfish capital of the world, that he met Emmeline Bowman. Emmeline was everything he’d never been allowed to be: independent, happy, and curious. What started out as infatuation quickly became much more, on both their parts. 

Austin was always quick to find a job at a mechanic shop part-time, for appearances, of course. His mother never worked. She was the stay-at-home, obedient wife, pride and joy every true southern man was after; at least, that was what his dad always said. His mother had liked Emmeline from the moment she met her. And Emmeline, of course, was full of questions. 

It didn’t take but three weeks for the young girl to piece together what it was Spencer’s family was doing in town, despite his best efforts to keep her in the dark. There were only so many ways of explaining massive bruises or random absences from school so soon after starting. Emmeline hadn’t skipped a beat once Spencer confirmed her suspicions. She asked inquisitive questions, offered suggestions on wound care, and even asked how she could help. 

Spencer had tried to shut her down but Austin had stepped in and given her all sorts of responsibilities that not even the most seasoned hunted should have been saddled with. All in an attempt to shorten her life for the lax with which Spencer had confirmed her theory. 

Lucky for Spencer and Emmeline both, the young woman was more than capable of handling herself. After only a few short months of training, she was taking down supernatural creatures without hesitation or falter. While Spencer was very capable at handling werewolves, Emmeline found her specialty in ghosts and ghouls. Not as easily frightened as one would think, Emmeline quickly fell in line within the Prata hunter clan, much to Spencer’s dismay. 

Spencer spent the first year trying to keep Emmeline as far from his father as possible, only to have Austin continue to pull Emmeline for side missions without any other help. Despite his attempts, Emmeline was also skilled at keeping Austin at arm’s length. Though he tried, many times, to get closer to her - both emotionally and physically - she kept him from crossing any lines, swearing up and down to Spencer that his father had never touched her.

26 years old.

Spencer had watched the entire thing happen. He’d watched Austin send Izzy into the vampire nest. Alone. Without checking on the number or intensity of the nest. Despite his insistence on checking things out, doing some simply retcon, Austin continued to shut him down. Emmeline had pulled Spencer back, reminding him not to anger his father. In the split second of conversation, Austin had kicked the door in and Izzy had been swarmed almost immediately. 

Austin didn’t even try to go in and help her. He screamed “retreat!” and left his own daughter screaming for help. Spencer had to be dragged away kicking and screaming by three other hunters who had been with them at the time. 

By the time he found his father, Austin had worked up enough crocodile tears to go in and tell his mother what happened. Without stopping, Spencer walked straight up to Austin and dragged him from the chair. His mother didn’t even try to stop him and by the time Spencer had stopped, Austin was passed out and his face wasn’t even recognizable. 

27 years old.

Shortly after Izzy’s passing, the hunters had moved yet again. Their current situation was eerily similar to the situation in which they had found themselves six months prior only this time, they were tracking wendigos. Typically, a few would pack together to make hunting easier. This time, though, it was a larger number, more dangerous than just a group of 3 or 4. But with the element of surprise, the hunters had the upper hand. 

Despite Emmeline’s planning, the situation ended up being far more than they had anticipated and shortly after going in, things got criss-crossed. Emmeline stood her ground next to Spencer, who was feet from his father. Austin screamed over his shoulder to his son for help and Spencer just stood there. The two locked eyes and Austin knew he wasn’t going to get any help from his son. “Boy, you better hope I don’t make it out of this alive.”

And he didn’t. Spencer stood feet from his father and watched as wendigos ripped his face off and ate his entire body.

When Spencer got home, limping, with more than a few broken ribs, bleeding from multiple open wounds, he simply walked up to his mother, kissed her on the forehead, and went to bed.

Personality

(+) Innovative (+) Independent (+) Self-sufficient (-) Sadistic (-) Hotheaded

[yjsangjun-blog]

                       𝖎𝖓𝖙𝖗𝖔𝖉𝖚𝖈𝖎𝖓𝖌 — 𝖇𝖆𝖊𝖐 ‘𝖘𝖆𝖒’ 𝖘𝖆𝖓𝖌𝖏𝖚𝖓.

hi hello. i’m cait, i’m 25, i go by she/her pronouns and i live in cst! i am a hot mess who loves causing her characters pain & angst…. i also love ruining their lives on a daily basis.

this is my babe sangjun who’s a lil bit messy ( much like most of my characters ) and you can find basic stats / bullet point bio / basic personality info / basic plot ideas & stuff like that for him under the cut! if you want more in depth info message me bc honestly this intro post is … oof !!! it’s also kinda long so lemme apologize for that as well !!!

but i am super excited to be here and i can’t wait to plot with ya’ll & love your babies !!!! if you’d like to plot, please feel free to IM me on here, ask for my discord or like this post & i’ll come to you !!!

tw: mentions of alcohol / alcoholism, drugs / drug abuse, bullying & violence.

                                         BASIC INFO ( PT 1. )

FACECLAIM: min yoongi + suga + rapper. CHARACTER NAME: baek 'sam' sangjun. PRONOUNS: he/him. GENDER: cismale. AGE/BIRTHDAY: twenty-six. + june eleventh. ZODIAC SIGN: gemini. ROOM: haean + 2e.

                                           OTHER INFO

POSITIVE TRAITS: determined, hard-working, charismatic & adventurous. NEGATIVE TRAITS: hedonistic, short-tempered, impulsive & blunt. OCCUPATION: bouncer at club arena / underground fighter. ( future ceo ) SONG THAT DESCRIBES THEM: i'm not sorry - dean. HOW LONG HAVE THEY LIVED AT THE YUJAEN?: six years. FOUR MUSE AESTHETICS: leather jackets, bruised knuckles, blurry evenings, late night snack runs.

                                      BASIC INFO ( PT 2. )

full name: baek sangjun. nickname(s): sam, san, jun. hometown: seoul, south korea current location: yongsa, south korea. ethnicity: korean. nationality: korean. gender: cismale. pronouns: he/him/his. orientation: pansexual. occupation: bouncer / underground fighter. language(s) spoken: korean, english, japanese, spanish, french, chinese.

                                PHYSICAL APPEARANCE.

face claim: min yoongi. ( suga ) of bts. hair color: frequently changes, currently platinum blonde. eye color: brown with a small hazel ring. height: 5'10". weight: 169. build: athletic. tattoos: he’s got a few stick-n-poke tattoos scattered across his body, though most aren’t visible when he’s wearing clothing. piercings: these, double helix in left ear & tongue.

                                             HEALTH.

physical ailments: alcoholism, allergies, drug abuse, lactose intolerance. neurological conditions: back pain / muscle spasms, carpal tunnel. allergies: shellfish, pollen, mold. sleeping habits: all over the place, usually tosses & turns for a while before falling asleep. rarely gets more than 4-5 hours of sleep a night. eating habits: horrible, relies on fast-food & take-out most of the time. loves 'comfort foods’. exercise habits: goes to the gym at least three times a week, less if he’s been in back-to-back fights. body temperature: hotnatured. addictions: alcohol, tobacco, cannabis, gambling, sex. drug use: frequent. alcohol use: frequent.

                                       PERSONALITY. ( PT 1. )

label: the cataclysmic. positive traits: determined, hard-working, charismatic & adventurous. negative traits: hedonistic, short-tempered, impulsive & blunt. fears: heights, flying, confined spaces, drowning, commitment. hobbies: arcade games, astronomy, billiards, board games, boxing, card games, comic books, cooking, motorcycles, poker, reading, video games, weight training, yoga. habits / quirks: believes in demonic possession, believes in ghosts & spirits, believes in karma, carries a 'lucky’ item with him everywhere, fights for animal rights, fights for gender equality, fights for human rights, fights for the legalization of cannabis, fights for marriage equality, meditates, always has change in his pockets, owns an outrageous amount of shoes, counts stairs, experiences episodes of depression, boxes, collects packs of playing cards, doodles on everything, gardens, loves board games, paints, plays with fire, plays poker, plays video games, randomly wanders around when bored, sings well.

                                               FAVORITES.

season: fall. color(s): army green, black, red, gray. music: all genres, doesn’t care for country. movies: action, comedy, horror, suspense. sport(s): hockey, basketball, baseball. beverage(s): whiskey, soda. food: comfort foods. animal: dogs.

                                                    FAMILY.

father: baek jaejin, sixty, ceo. mother: baek chansook, fifty-four, ceo. sibling(s): younger sibling, nineteen. children: n/a. pet(s): a siamese cat named ramen ( back at home with his parents ), a bengal cat named shiva ( back at home with his parents ) & a seven month old austrailan sheppard puppy named indy ( lives with his sibling. ) family’s financial status: upper class.

                                                   EXTRAS.

mbti: entp-a. ( the debater ) enneagram: type 8. ( the challenger ) temperament: choleric. hogwarts house: slytherin. moral alignment: chaotic neutral. primary vice: wrath. primary virtue: diligence. element: fire.

                                                BIOGRAPHY.

born in seoul, south korea.

parents were very well known ceos, both running very successful corporations.

and of course, they wanted sangjun to follow in their footsteps.

parents were pretty strict and didn’t really allow him to do well.. anything.

however, they did buy him whatever he wanted and spoiled him in that way.

and due to both of those things combined, he started to rebel at a really young age. ( i’m talking like 10 )

so he’d sneak out, graffiti people’s houses and break things and the likes.

never got caught for it, though, knowing that if he did his parents would have kicked him out and probably disowned him for his behavior.

but one of the reasons he never got caught being a rebel was the fact he was bringing straight a’s in school, was always the very top of his class and from his parent’s perspective? he was a model child.

however, he hated that, hated having to live under his parent’s shadows and be this cookie-cutter version of himself they wanted him so desperately to be.

but he played it off, juggling the 'angel’ side of him with the rebellious tendencies that continued to grow worse and worse with each passing year.

god, high school was so different, though. he’d rebel more and more every single day, pushing the limits of getting caught.

however, word got out pretty quickly about just how wealthy his family was and kids started to bully sangjun for it, causing his anger to get the better of him until he lashed out so bad it landed one of those bullies in the hospital for copious amounts of injuries.

of course, his parents were pissed. grounded him for a solid month and in that time, he learned each and every way he could sneak out of his house at night, wandering the streets of seoul at all hours.

one of those nights he happened to run into a group of people who also went to his school, but instead of them bullying him for whatever reason, they commended him on standing up for himself like he had & told him there was a way to let out the pent up aggression that ended up sending a kid to the hospital.

his curiosity was lit up that night, eager to figure out what the hell they were talking about and a few days later, he was introduced to a scene that’d become far more intoxicating that anything he’d ever experienced before.

underground fighting. no rules, no shadows he had to live under, tons of money for each win under his belt? it was the life he never knew he wanted, but the second he got a taste of it, he wanted more.

so those late night strolls turned into him sneaking out of the house only to meet up with his new group of friends, all of which were clad in full black outfits .. traveling to some random person’s basement ( or abandoned buildings of numerous kinds ) only for sangjun to be able to release every single bit of pent up aggression he carried out on some stranger who’d never remember his name.

his parents? they were just as clueless as before, though, sam continuing to excel in school as well as his fights so much so that he found the perfect balance.. learned how to hide the scrapes and bruises from his mother & father all while continuing to be the top of his class.

not to mention he was juggling all of that and his acting career all at once, trying to hide certain things from his parents and the rest of the world because he knew it’d ruin his reputation.

however, due to the amount of stress that sat upon sam’s shoulders on a daily basis, he let himself slip up on his 21st birthday, parents stumbling into his apartment only to catch him drunk & high with a bunch of strangers surrounding him.

it was a moment he’d been scared of his whole life, worried his parents would just disown him right then and there...

but in all honesty? it was the most freeing night of sam’s life.

he didn’t have to pretend to be someone he wasn’t anymore, didn’t have to pretend to be a pure and innocent little thing who never did anything wrong. didn’t have to live up to the high expectations he’d set for himself so many years ago and god, he was hooked.

his parents not disowning him and continuing to pay for everything he wanted only fueling him to continue the downward spiral, living his life to the fullest, doing whatever the hell he wanted to... whenever the hell he wanted to.

                                      PERSONALITY. ( PT 2. )

hides behind a wall of sarcasm, cockiness, anger and lust.

doesn’t really care to get to know people and had a tendency to push people away before they get too close to him. ( though it’s all a ruse. )

wears glasses to read and mess w computers, but hates them a lot and probably won’t wear them if people are around.

has two different wardrobes, one for when he’s around his parents. that consists of suits & dressy attire. and then one for when he isn’t that consists of ripped jeans, t-shirts, sweats & everything in between.

is …. stubborn as hell and refuses to ask for help with anything.

his motorcycle is literally his baby ??? like he ?? has a problem ??

fluent in a lot of languages, picked them up so that he didn’t need translators at his parents meetings and the likes.

lowkey worried that people will figure out that he’s actually v scared & stressed on the inside because that’ll cause him to start having to deal with his feelings, and he doesn’t wanna do that.

is the biggest flirt you will ever meet?? like if he’s speaking to you… its usually flirty as hell unless it has to do w business ( both his parents & his fights ) or he’s just known you for centuries ?

will try to get everyone to go to bars n parties with him because that’s his life in a nutshell ??

drinks..heavily..  like every night?? it’s a problem tbh.

nerd on the inside though like owns so many comic books, loves to play video games, read books, plays piano.. loves to sketch, paint & the likes.

he cares… god he cares so much about people and the world but he pretends to hate everything because it’s easier than letting people in.

full of horrible and cheesy pick up lines and jokes and frequently texts people said pick up lines and jokes.

owns a book that is full of nothing but blank pages and keeps it on his coffee table because he ‘relates’ to it.

is a highkey hoe but he tries to keep it on the dl ( he fails… miserably. )

super into fitness as it’s a way to keep him away from drinking every evening. ( that doesn’t work for him tho, oof.. )

also has bruised knuckles 24/7 & some other injuries he gets from his fights, plays it off like he’s just clumsy.

anger issues af. needs to get them in check.

actually super kind and caring once you’re able to see get past his wall?? which is really hard tbh but if you’re able to? he’s so loyal and caring it’s unreal.

has a bad habit of smoking whenever he’s stressed out, which is usually all of the time so he smokes…. more than he should ( though he won’t admit to being stressed out,,,,, ever in his life. )

highkey into cuddling and all the cute shit like that but would literally never tell a soul because then they’d see that he isn’t the ‘hardass’ he pretends to be on a daily basis.

is a burnt cupcake who has 'decent’ intentions but has extremely horrible execution skills.

                                                 PLOT IDEAS.

bad influence. ( on your muse. )

best friends.

childhood friend.

competition.

confidant.

cousin.

current hook up(s).

drinking buddies.

drunken hook up.

enemies that used to be friends.

enemies.

exes who ended on bad terms.

flirtationship.

frenemies.

friendly competition.

friends that used to be enemies.

friends with benefits.

good influence. ( on sangjun. )

hate sex.

one night stand(s). ( past & present. )

partner in crime.

party buddies.

past hook up(s).

ride or die.

social media friends.

trouble makers.

unlikely friends.

[phoenixfire-thewizardgoddess]

why doesn’t the current employment system work?

easy, it’s a half-assed one-solution-fits-all approach made by rich people who have NEVER used the employment search system.

-

How does it work?

You want centrelink? You get assigned a job-search centre, there’s always 4-5 in even small towns now. It’s a lucrative business.

You’re told ‘search for 20-40 jobs per month’ based on your area. They have to be jobs you could reasonably do (one or two assholes made sure the whole system was tightened bc they’d apply for things they had no qualifications for). 

These are entered online, on a special governmental site. Failure to locate the right amount gets you a strike, or more than one.

Which is hard because there are only so many jobs in smaller towns, right?

So let’s say you have no luck, you hand in the 20 for that fortnight, and ‘report’ online to centrelink that you are following the rules.

They also make you do mandatory courses such as the 2-day ‘Resume Writing Course’ that you can do up to twice in 6 months. It’s as stupid as it sounds, and you learn nothing but that you hate the place.

Also, 3-day mandatory ‘Communication with People’. How to talk to people. Literally. 3 days of your life gone. Gee, wish I’d done some sort of degree around literally talking to people and using analysis... hmmm... 

They do not Recognise Prior Learning, at all. Because each person they make attend gets them more and more money.

-

New rules allow for them to identify a job you HAVE to apply for -even if you must write a new resume and cover letter. Which, in some cases, is a little fair.  Maybe you’re using one from years ago.

New rules can make them demand you call the HR of a certain place in front of them, to prove your resume went in, and to ask about the position. Of course, this will slap you on the Hell No list, but at least they’re satisfied.

New rules allow them to make you change your existing resume -e.g. they can demand you remove your degree/qualifications to make you more attractive to retail employers (always wary of taking on someone who might move on quickly).

That only works for 6 months these days.

- - - 

After 6 months, they send you on a Work-for-the-Dole assignment to a local charity.

They’re supposed to do risk assessments, and follow up on allegations of groping weirdoes and pedophilia (looking at you, Salvation Army*). But they don’t. [ *that person who did it was literally the Community Member of the Year until the truth of what the local SA was covering up came to light. Fucking creep of a man, so many flags that Jesus absolved him of.]

That nonsense injured two members of my family directly, as well as others; at the same place, at different times, and both were deemed ‘our fault’. Despite that the first incident involved an unqualified asshole making a teenage boy hold a fridge, then deliberately dropping the truck tray fast so it yanked the ligaments in the kid’s shoulder so badly it took 6-12 months to heal with physiotherapy.

And the second time, a bookshelf held up with STICKY-tape was broken by a customer, and fell off slamming into my knees and feet, causing untold agony... resulting in a fractured patella in one knee and severe bruising/clicking/weird shit that persists even a year and a half later... but that was my fault.

-----------------------

In short, each person is assigned up to 55 hours per fortnight that they have to undertake with a charity of some formation. OR ROADWORK - they can also make you do roadwork. Like they tried to do to the just-healed teenage boy the minute his medical exemption period was up, even though he couldn’t raise his arm all the way yet. It’s Making Money, not Helping People Find Jobs.

They also made an app, that the person attending MUST download (even if you have to delete just about every single other thing on the cheap phone to make room for it).

It’s called Jobapp or some shit. Basically, when you get there the manager or head volunteer (often tech illiterate) HAS to print a QR code for you, and only you.

You sign into the app, this takes a while bc it’s not well designed and cuts out often. Finally, you find the hard-to-locate-and-ambiguously-named part where you can ‘sign in’ as being at your ‘activity’.

If you’re there all day, and you will be, there are Two Codes.

You scan them to separate locations in the app. And boom, you’re registered as there. It only takes one missed QR code or app failure to land you in shit, though.

And then you spend all day cleaning, on the till, arguing with people over op shop items bc they feel certain prices are too high even if it’s less than a third the real price. And you’re not allowed to sit or chill or anything... unless you’re a volunteer. They can get away with murder.

So that goes on for six months, slowly draining the will to live from your bones.

All the while, you still have to do the 20-40 jobs things and find time for their Training Modules that you already did but hey, you’re a moneymaker. Sometimes they will NOT count the training days towards your Total 55hours per fortnight, so you lose the one free day a week you had...

---------------

It sucks... but I think the other thing we should mention is that this doesn’t really exclude any jobseekers.

Disabled? Elderly? Medical Issues? Can’t speak english very well? Other issue?

Get in there. We get paid to supervise your activity!

Like, there are a lot of people doing job seeking activities who are unfit for the position they are forced into. For many reasons.

-----------------

The thing I found laughable was that they could apply for you, without your knowledge, and if that resulted in an interview you HAD to go. If they feel you tanked the interview, they can penalise you...

There are ways to tank an interview, though. Trust me.  Especially for telemarketer interviews, just have an awkward phone manner, like you’re trying but it’s Weird. And boom, no. [Not that there’s anything wrong with that job, but they signed me up for it without my permission and some dangerous clients worked there, I would not have been safe, they didn’t care tho].

Also, you can’t apply for certain positions for someone with a degree. Our ability is measured in the way we respond to the questions and assessment requests... you can force us to apply to them, but trying to write in for us is just ridiculous. 

They might also call and call and call anyone on your applied-for list that they directed you to apply for... which of course, can tank your chances. Very annoying.

And if you get a job, on your own merit, they take credit for it immediately. I assume there’s a bonus or something.

- - - - - 

The agency I was sent to, MaxEmployment, was actually THROWN OUT OF ANOTHER STATE FOR COMMITTING FRAUD AGAINST THE GOVERNMENT.

So naturally, QLD said ‘yeah, let’s have that one’.

M.E. allegedly used to claim they had held mass training events with 80+ people every few weeks, doing those awful little courses listed above.  Except, on inspection by confused governmental officials..,. they discovered the room would barely hold 5-6 people including a trainer. Therefore, fraud.

Also, M.E. has failed to catch fake-ads (resulting in free 2-hour work ‘trials’ for a certain cafe that went over a year, fraud) and even sent an unaccompanied 15 year old girl to a fucking BROTHEL after identifying a clearly-not-for-an-admin ad for ‘an admin’ at that location.

IT’s always MONEY.

--------------------

If you are in charge of the poor, the ill, the desperate... then it should not be for money incentives. You should get a flat wage and that’s it.

Why? Because then people who are actually able to do the job, and willing to help people, will do it. Not just people who see dollar signs when they look at the tired, the unemployed and the ill.

And they need to actually fire bad people.

Let me tell you about this woman I had to deal with in a 6 month break from my fucking uni degree due to illness. Automatically, they threw me into job seeking.  I didn’t have a voice for like 2 months, but that didn’t matter.

This huge, hulking, rotund potato of a woman, balding ranga and a face as mean as a bulldog’s arsehole... was my caseworker person. She was a nightmare.

I would find 20 jobs, and hand in the sheet, she would yell at me, that I was being smart and she wouldn’t accept that. I once applied for nearly 65 jobs in one fortnight out of desperation, because she kept having my centrelink cut off without warning if I refused to complete another sheet.

The other caseworkers never stopped her. The manager would not hear my complaints or concerns. She could do what she wanted.

And she knew I could not stop her. The one thing about the situation that kept me apart form others there was that, if I absolutely couldn’t take it, my parental unit said we would ‘manage’ until I went back to uni the next year. Others were unable to do that, and so, this absolute cunt of a woman... held sway.

She had no class, no charm and no people skills. She screamed at the top of her lungs at a tiny asian lady who a) didn’t have a great grasp on english at the time, and b) did not understand all the big words this self-important ranga was using just to sound intelligent.

Apparently the solution to ‘I do not understand’ is raise your voice, to screaming, and get angry. NONE of her colleagues even looked up at her.  Jesus, if one of my colleagues was yelling like that I’d have dragged them out of the room by their fucking hair, like what the HELL was that about.

Was she stopped or fired? No. Was she transferred to some unsuspecting town? Yeah.

I don’t trust organisations who will not admit they hired the wrong person, and fire them. It means they’re hiding shit.

--------------

TL;DR - The whole system is a disaster.

They claim more people are employed, but they also count people on those mandatory work-for-the-dole things, which skews the unemployment number to less than it is.

It is exhausting to deal with and its no wonder so many fucking people are so depressed death seems like the only solution.

And it was all thanks to a handful of people rorting the system; the idiots up top went into red-alert levels of panic and upended the system to punish people.

AND THAT’S NOT EVEN FUCKING TALKING ABOUT THE NEW BASICS CARD SYSTEM

which is nonsense

sure, limit what people can get to groceries and certain stores, including op shops or whatevs. can’t get smokes or alcohol on the cards...

have to have ID for the cards...

but like, you think people won’t find ways to get the smokes, drugs and alcohol they want? you’ve just ensured that they either pawn their things, or do degrading acts to get those things...

so give yourselves a moralistic high-five, people who decided this system was a great idea (primarily bc they and their family/social circle will never need to use it), because you’ve cause d so many more problems than you solved...

[marshmallow-phd]

The Experiments

(gif not mine)

Genre: Sci-Fi, Thriller, Experiment AU

Pairing: Fem!Reader x Exo (????)

Summary: You were a med school graduate who just wanted to help research cures for the world. Instead, what you got was a dream job at EXO Applied Sciences. That is, until you discover the secrets of Level Sixty-Six and the nine inhabitants that are stored down there….

Warning: mentions of abuse

Part: 1 I 2 I 3 I 4 I 5 I 6 I 7 I 8 I 9 I 10 I 11 I 12 I 13 I 14 I 15 I 16 I 17 I 18 I 19 I 20 I 21 I 22 I 23 I Final

The boys were getting restless. You could feel it. Marcus had said that the contact would be at the cabin within the week, but it had already been over a week and a half with no sign of any other living soul in the vicinity. There was still plenty of food in the house so that didn’t worry you. But what if the contact never arrived? What would happen then?

If Marcus was still here, you wouldn’t have worried so much. He’d have a way to contact someone from his department. Get the boys out of here. But he wasn’t here.

It’d taken you a while, but now you could think about your friend without breaking down. His bullet wound and the way his body slumped to the ground after his heart had stopped still haunted you, but you could push it away when it was necessary. Tears were now controllable.

There wasn’t much to do around the house. Baekhyun had found a few board games, but that only kept their attention for so long. You wondered if being cooped up here was worse.

Of course it wasn’t. They still had their free will. But it was like dangling a carrot in front of a starving donkey, keeping what it really wanted to just out of it’s reach. You wouldn’t let them go outside in case they were spotted. The area was far from civilization, but you couldn’t risk it. One mistake could be fatal for all.

On a particularly claustrophobic afternoon, you had snuck into one of the spare rooms that was set up like a study on the second floor. The windows gave you a nice view of the woods. Sitting on the bench under the ledge, you just stared out at the nature before you, absentmindedly rubbing your scar.

Birds were zooming in and out of the pine needle branches, singing to each other as they went about their day. Occasionally, a squirrel would ventru out and jump from one trunk to another and you even spotted a doe leading her young deer away from the house.

It was strange, how at peace you felt in this moment. As much as you worried about the future, in the current hour, you were content. You didn’t miss your work or apartment. The boys were the reason you kept yourself going to the lab. They came with you so you couldn’t bring yourself to miss running blood work everyday or straining your eyes on multiple monitors.

Instead, you felt rejuvenated by the forest, away from society. Like this had been what you were really striving for in your life. The boys made it more like home, helping you with chores and making you laugh, some of them still prone to more childish antics.

Chanyeol, Baekhyun, and Jongdae had settled on spending their time playing tricks on the others. You couldn’t help but laugh at some of their schemes. They reminded you more of happy, clumsy beagles than ferocious wolves.

“Are you all right?”

Junmyeon had snuck into the office, closing the door behind him softly before sitting across from you on the nook, joining in on the peace and quiet.

You nodded. “Yeah, I’m fine. Just not used to being surrounded by people twenty-four seven.”

Junmyeon laughed. “Yeah, they’re a bit much sometimes.”

Shrugging, you chuckled a bit. “Most of the time, I enjoy everyone’s company, I just spent most of my time alone before all this. I was never really outgoing.”

That made Junmyeon frown. “Why not? You seem to interact with us just fine.”

“I don’t think you guys really count,” you replied. Sighing, you looked back out the window. “I used to not be so afraid of people, but-” You bit your lip. This is what you had been afraid of. They made you too comfortable. And now your mouth had ran off without your brain.

“But what?” Junmyeon scooted closer to you. “(y/n), you can trust me.”

You shook your head, dropping your gaze down to your hands. “It’s not about trust. I just don’t like talking about it.”

“You were about to.”

Of course you were. You’d stopped just in time. Anxiety in overdrive, your thumb was rubbing your scar so hard you could feel the burning friction between your skin. Junmyeon placed his hand over yours and brought your wrist to him, inspecting the now red surface area. Normally, you would have yanked your arm back and ran for the hills, but the warmth emanating from Junmyeon’s eyes as he took in the detail of the scar, grazing it oh-so gently with his fingers tips stopped you.

“What happened?” he asked softly.

“I was thirteen,” you answered, nearly startling yourself. But once one little fact was released, everything else just came out. “My best friend was being abused. At first, she wouldn’t tell me. She’d lie and say it was an accident. She fell or ran into something.”

“A boyfriend?” Junmyeon guessed.

You shook your head. “Her dad. She was the only girl and the youngest. Her older brothers were gifted. Smart. Athletic. He had the same expectations of her, but she didn’t meet them. She was under so much pressure. It took a lot of prodding from me, but she finally told me everything.” You swallowed back tears, remembering how shaken she was as you held her, taking in everything she told you.

“I thought I was helping. Everyone said that if your friend told you something was going on at home then you told an adult. So, I did. I told our teacher. The teacher called the authorities. She’d seen the bruises too, but now she had me to back her theory up. Child services came and looked everything over, but her father was able to charm them off. Then he beat her some more for being ungrateful.” Junmyeon was right next to you now, rubbing your arm up and down to comfort you as you let it all out.

“What happened?”

Taking a deep breath, you finished out the third act of the story. “I thought she’d hate me forever, but she didn’t. She said that she understood. I was just trying to help. When her family was out of town, she invited me over for a sleepover. Everything was fine. Until we went to bed. After I’d fallen asleep, she’d snuck downstairs and turned the stove on. The police say she must have coated a washcloth in grease left from dinner and threw it on the stove along with a lit match, starting a fire. I woke up coughing. The bedroom was on the second floor. Smoke was everywhere. I ran out to the hallway. I couldn’t find her. I didn’t understand what was going on. All I could think of was getting out of the house, away from the fire. A piece of the ceiling that was on fire fell and hit my arm as I was running for the front door. Third degree burns that scarred my wrist.” You closed your eyes, trying to push away the images. “I can still hear her screams sometimes.

“The police ruled it a suicide. Her mom tried to take her own life a few weeks later. Took a whole bottle of pills but they got her to the hospital in time. Sometimes, I wonder if I had just kept my mouth shut, if I hadn’t told anyone, she might still be here.”

“No, (y/n).” Junmyeon carrassed your face with the back of his hand. “You did what you thought was right. You wanted to save your friend. You can’t blame yourself. She made her decision. I’m honestly thankful that you at least survived. Because I got to meet you.”

Your eyes met his and your heart started beating erratically in your chest. Those brown eyes steadily stayed on you, reading you like you were the most sacred text that was bringing light into his life. Since the day you walked into his cell, Junmyeon always seemed to be able to see right through you. He opened you up as easily as a worn out paperback and it scared you. Never in his presence had you ever felt fear or in danger. His presence calmed you and his skin against yours… felt like home. And he trusted you completely.

“I almost didn’t do it,” you confessed.

Junmyeon knit his eyebrows together, dropping his hands to his lap. “Do what? Tell your teacher?”

“No,” you countered. “I almost didn’t agree to break you guys out.” Holding your breath, you waited. You thought maybe he would pull away, become angry with you. But he didn’t.

“It couldn’t have been an easy decision,” he replied. “But what matters is that you did. You’re a strong person, (y/n). I admire that.”

You pouted. “Do you have any sort of flaw?”

He laughed, caught off guard by your sudden playful comment. Even though it did lift the mood, you were serious. Suddenly you felt like a repeating sinner in the presence of a saint.

The door to the study opened. Chanyeol peaked his head in. A large, toothy smile had been on his face when he first saw you, but noticing Junmyeon’s closeness, it faltered.

Suddenly feeling self-conscious, you stood up, putting space between the two of you. “Yes, Chanyeol?”

He blinked, taking a few seconds before answering you. “Yixing and Kyungsoo made dinner. We wanted to wait for you first.”

You smiled at the thoughtfulness. “Of course. Let’s go.”

Not looking at Junmyeon, you passed Chanyeol, grabbing his arm and pulling him towards the stairs. Your turn of attention to him seemed to bring his mood up once more.

Everyone was already gathered at the island. There was a decent sized dining table in the next room over, but the boys didn’t care for it. Neither did you. Eating around the kitchen island helped all of you feel closer. Like a family.

They were your family now. While there were moments where you missed your parents, you felt that if you were suddenly ripped away from the boys, it would devastate you. It was the kind of loss that could kill you.

“Bbbuuuurrrrrrppppppp.”

“Oh, now, that’s just disgusting,” you complained. A terrible side effect for some of the boys was their lack of manners. Well, one particular boy’s lack of manners.

Baekhyun just let out his signature laugh you could recognize on a whole different floor. Some of the others laughed as well, while a few were on your side. Yixing frowned. Kyungsoo rolled his eyes and Junmyeon just sighed. Chanyeol was laughing as well until he caught your disapproving glare. His mouth shut with an audible clamp.

Minseok shook his head. “I was going to ask why you’re acting like a caged animal, but then I realized what a dumb question that was.”

You choked on your food holding back a laugh. It shouldn’t have been funny to you at all given their circumstances, but you couldn’t help it. The accuracy of the statement was just to spot on.

Confused eyes trained on you.

“You know,” Jongdae chuckled, “I didn’t know you had a sick sense of-”

He stopped. All the boys froze, their ears visibly strained, hearing something your own failed to pick up on. Collectively, they all jumped up, scrambling over each other to the hall. You were several steps behind them, nearly running to Yixing’s back as they all crowded in the front parlor around the door.

Stepping around the gentle wolf, you started towards the door, still unable to understand what was going on. Jongin jumped forward, wrapping his arms around your waist to keep you from going any further. He lifted your feet off the ground, taking you back away from the door. Chanyeol and Junmyeon stood on either side, creating a three-man wall in front of you.

“What is going on?” you whispered.

“There’s someone outside,” Junmyeon whispered back.

“Their scent....,” Chanyeol murmured. “There’s something familiar about it.”

They all sniffed the air, trying to put their fingers on what they could be smelling.

Sehun’s eyes widened. “Wait. I know-”

He ran for the door, pushing past his smaller hyungs.

Baekhyun tried to stop him. “No, Sehun-”

It was too late. The young, impulsive wolf threw open the door. Everyone gasped loudly except for you.

It was a young man with light blonde hair and a soft face. A crooked smile adorned his lips, recognition in his eyes. Sehun threw his arms around the newcomer’s neck, his own shoulders shaking slightly as quiet sobs escaped.

Your eyes widened. Several of the boys had mentioned the missing members in detail during your sessions, but by Sehun’s particular reaction to the visitor’s presence, you knew he could only be one person.

Number Zero-Seven.

Minseok fell to his knees in disbelief.

“Luhan.”

[kolbehq]

FILE // BASIC INFORMATION

Name: Finley “Fin” Calder.

Age: 25 years old.

Gender: Non-binary.

Pronouns: They/them.

Species: Human.

Home Planet: Creon.

Job: Mechanic.

Criminal Record: Theft and destruction of government property, illegal and dangerous modification of vehicles, resisting arrest, assaulting an officer.

Sentence: 5 years.

Faceclaim: Ezra Miller.

FILE // BACKGROUND

Hedone is a loud and crowded and chaotic city on a loud, crowded, and chaotic planet, and the birth of Finley Calder did nothing but contribute to that chaos. Their childhood was unconventional in many ways, but the one thing they never wanted for was love. Fin was raised in a winding series of rooms inhabited by a handful of single mothers, the occasional partner, and whoever else needed a few cushions and a corner to rest in. As far as Fin was concerned, those women and children were all their family, big and boisterous and unexpected as it was. And at it’s heart- in Fin’s mind, at least- stood their mother, Ella. Her smile is Fin’s most prized inheritance, her generosity their inspiration. 

For all the love that was packed in that small space, time was not something Fin’s mother, or any of the adults, really, had to spare for the herd of children gathered around them. School could only occupy so much time, and working in one of Creon’s tourist capitals meant long hours of exhausting work, so even when some of the adults were home the older children often took on the job of watching the younger ones. Fin was nurtured in equal parts curled up in a campbed with their mother, leaning in close as she whispered stories into their ear, and running as fast as short legs could take them to tag along at the heels of the bigger kids in the grimy backstreets of Hedone. They learned fast who to stay away from, who to approach only cautiously, and which bars would give them a glass of cold water if they clambered up onto a barstool and flashed a toothy grin. 

By the time Fin was five or six it became clear they were the boldest of the younger cohort of their unconventional family, and so it was only natural that they were the one who developed the quickest fingers. After all, they didn’t have the money to buy treats or tickets to play the games advertised with bright neon signs in buildings full of tourists. And so Fin would slip away and return with a handful of VR arcade game tokens and feel their heart swell at the glee on the other children’s faces, giggling and feigning protest at the rough and excited hugs they were dragged into. Even then, when things had felt innocent, when Fin hadn’t completely understood that stealing wasn’t generally considered the best behavior, even on Creon, they’d studiously kept it all a secret from their mother. 

It’d grown from there. Fin only grew bolder, and their legend grew from just the children of their family to the other kids in the gutters. If Fin had been older perhaps they might have anticipated their downfall, but it was at the immortal age of eight that they were first caught. The hand seemed to have come from nowhere, parting the crowd, big fingers completely encircling their upper arm in a sudden vice grip. Fin was thrown up against the nearest shopfront, and the stolen kiwis (imported, they later discovered, from Lysander, and stupid expensive) were retrieved from their pockets. They’d returned home with a deep purple ring of bruises around their arm and wide, watery eyes. 

Years later, when they stole something again for the first time, they discovered it was like riding a bike. Their fingers hadn’t forgotten. 

They’d just turned seventeen when their mother lost her job in the resort, and ignoring her protests, they’d dropped out of school and found a job with a mechanic, strenuous and unforgiving, but with decent pay. They were good with their hands, after all. Their employer, a big man who was at his best indifferent towards those working in his shop, didn’t particularly like Fin from the beginning (too loud, too bold, too prone to letting their tongue go unchecked), but indifference tempered with vague dislike was nothing Fin hadn’t shrugged off as not worth their time before. 

By nineteen, Fin knew their way around almost any model of ship that turned up in the shop, and knew intimately well that half the “repairs” the big boss was making the workforce on the floor execute were ineffective, or done with faulty parts, or just downright deliberately dangerous. If they had been more familiar with Old Earth culture they might have called him the quintessential crooked used-car salesman, except in this case the sleazy short cuts might result in an entire ship decompressing and killing everyone inside. They did their best to mitigate the damage, but it was a balancing act between doing what they could and making sure no one caught on. Something told them that to do anymore than warn clients and try to prevent the most potentially fatal patches would catch their boss’ eye, in which case he wasn’t likely to be willing to keep paying them. And their mother needed the money.

At twenty, Fin had had enough. They avoided visiting their mother for a couple of days until their black eye was at least slightly less swollen shut, but she fussed and told them off with deep sympathy anyway when they explained the explosion of rage that they had found themself the target of after their retrospectively misguided act of turning up at their boss’ office door to say they were quitting and also had notified the authorities and a number of officers should be there to arrest him in the next couple minutes. They’d stumbled out of the shop bruised and blooded, but with a bag of tools no one would miss under their arm. 

It’d been hard, after that, to find a job. It turned out having a moral compass, even a questionable one, didn’t endear one to employers in Hedone. Fin resorted to scraping by working one-off mechanical repairs, earning a reputation for fixing ships quickly and well for next to nothing. No one asked questions, and for a while it worked. Hardly anyone ever noticed if some parts went missing from the innards of a docked ship on the other side of town right around the same time a newly repaired one took off again. 

FILE // CURRENTLY

Fin had been caught before. Sneaky as they’d had to relearn being, once they’d been spotted they weren’t very good at blending into crowds. Wearing things like jackets they’d painted a gigantic purple python across the back of, or a skirt adorned with illuminated led flowers, made hiding harder than it was for most. But before that time, the very last time Fin had tried to lose a tail, not sacrificing the jacket had seemed worth a couple of punches or the occasional broken bone, maybe a night or two in the nearest jail cell. Maybe if they hadn’t been quite so them that day they might not have ended up in prison. And then subsequently trapped on a suicide mission on a ship to everywhere and nowhere, of course.

The crime that did them in was one they’d committed so many times before that they’d lost count. But they’d known from the start that the stakes were higher this time around. If they were on Antigone every other ship would have what they needed, but on Creon top-of-the-line parts were comparatively few and far between. They knew it was monumentally stupid to try to rip into the hull of a United Planets ship, even if it wasn’t a particularly important one, but jobs had been sparse, Fin wasn’t exactly thinking clearly, and the money would have lasted them months.

It was a testament to just how desperate they knew the job was from the beginning that Fin wasn’t exactly sober when they had slipped away from the UP ship, critical mechanical part tucked deep into the pocket of their too-long jacket. They’d blame that lack of sobriety for the fact that they didn’t just let themself be dragged away when a hand came out of the crowd and locked around their upper arm. It was all over then, and they knew it, but they’d racked up another criminal charge anyway by kicking one guard in the crotch and throwing a wrench grabbed blindly from their pocket at another, cursing and squirming the entire time.

Not that it had amounted to anything more than a new set of bruises. The arrest had led to an investigation which had led to the uncovering of a pattern of crimes, and the authorities didn’t seem impressed by the fact that Fin had never left any ships unsafe for flight. They were more concerned with the illegal bits. Of which there seemed to be many.

Fin spent the next year in prison. It was jarring to only see their mother a handful of times over those months after years of practically living out of each other’s pockets even when Fin had moved out. She would be fine, or so she had sworn up and down to them- she had support in the women Fin had always regarded as family, some savings that Fin had tucked away, and a job again. They still couldn’t help but feel like they’d completely failed her. They resorted to spending all their free time in the prison library, filling out the theoretical side their education in mechanics had lacked, driven out of self preservation more than anything else. It was this studiousness, regardless of motivation, that had landed them standing in front of a group of people asking them what they could do to help a mission to find humanity’s next home. They’d laughed.

What had followed was a long and arduous process as the powers that be evaluated their ability and fitness to join the ES Kolbe, and Fin paid the whole thing only half their attention as they wrestled with the reality that they were considering running from everything with the distinct possibility of never returning. It was the insidious thought that their mother was probably better off without them that had Fin signing their life away, and drove their feet forward as they stepped aboard the ship.

In many ways, Fin’s job on the Kolbe is easier than the work they did back on Creon. The tools are newer, better models, and there are actually spare parts and materials to made repairs with. On such a large ship inhabited by so many people, things break or malfunction on a daily basis, so Fin finds themself zigzagging all over the Kolbe to attend to whichever panel is rattling or door sparking at any given moment. Even if their job didn’t demand constant motion, Fin would be on the move. They haven’t really sat down to consider how they feel now that they’re on the Kolbe, and they aren’t convinced that they ever want to, either.